The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley
by ValorOrgulloso
Summary: When you get caught dancing in your underwear... HarryGinny
1. In Which I Want You Back

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter I: In Which I Want You Back In Bunny Knickers**

"Ubabababa! All I want! Ubabababa! All I need! Ubabababa! All I want! Ubabababa! ALL I NEEEED!" I shrieked loudly, shrilly, and off-key at the top of my lungs. I was home alone, for once. And, as such, I felt a great urge to celebrate that by playing (or blasting) a CD on my dad's boom-box and singing along to the Jackson Five in nothing but an old t-shirt, large sunglasses, and my bunny knickers. Oh, and my pink fuzzy socks that I could slide around on the wood floors, so when the music got to its intense parts, I could slip down the length of my kitchen.

Anyways, I was like this because Ron was at Diagon Alley with Harry and Hermione, the twins were 'supervising' them on mum's orders (I have no idea what my mother was on when she had that bright idea), Bill was in Egypt, Charlie was in Romania, Percy was just a prat and fup and left us so I didn't exactly know where he was, and mum and dad went off for a little rendezvous for the day a.k.a. 'appliance shopping.' Dad wanted to get a dishwasher. Why? I really have no bloody clue. We had magic. We had used magic for the past gazillion years. We used magic to wash dishes. _Why_ did we need a dishwasher?

But, I guess dad's obsession with Muggle items like dishwashers has gotten me where I am today. Dad bought the CDs and radio when he wanted to learn about Muggle music, so I was listening to those CDs on that radio.

My family was supposed to be gone at least until four, so I had another hour of dancing in my underwear left before I had to stop acting like a complete and total idiot.

I changed the CD. As great as the Jackson Five was, and as cute as Michael Jackson was when he was little and before he became white, sometimes I just needed a little diversity.

And so went on my insane dancing. It must have been through at least six songs on the album, while I was screaming, "Only while I'm dancing can I feel this free… at night I lock the doors so no one else can see!" when I was doing these little twirls. Suddenly, while I was spinning I saw someone standing in the kitchen's entrance. I stopped my twirls immediately, mortified. And guess who it was? The last person I wanted to hear me belting out Madonna in my bunny knickers and my obnoxiously bright socks. It was none other than Harry-bloody-amazing-and-gorgeous-Potter. He had a very amused smile on his face, obviously trying his hardest not to let a bubble of laughter erupt as I blushed bright red. I mean, how on earth did one get out of this situation? No one was supposed to be home for another thirty minutes! Well, I guess I should have felt thankful that I wasn't singing (shrieking) along to I'll Make Love to You, as great as that song was. I had been listening to a few minutes back, when Harry walked in. But I wasn't feeling very thankful at the moment. I was sudoriferous and prostrated. I never listed words that big or old when I was in my right mind.

I was holding a cucumber in my hand limply, as I had beens using it as my microphone, and, of course, I was in a nasty, dingy shirt, my bunny knickers, and large, orange sunglasses that I found (carefully) in Fred's and George's room. I had put on elaborate amounts of bright makeup: neon pink lipstick, blue eye shadow, and an enormous amount of my mother's blush.

It was in that moment that I wondered what could possibly incline me to dress up like a boob. But then I remembered: my celebration. That everyone was gone. But that was no more. Harry was there, laughing at me. How cruel. Okay, I would probably have done the same thing if I was in his position, but _still. _Harry was supposed to be like this inconceivably nifty and totally hot guy.

"Ginny," Harry choked out between his random bursts of snickers.

I glared. "Oh, shut up," was the most I could muster in my mortification. Harry tried to control his snorts but was failing, covering his mouth and leaning against the wall next to the door. I mean_ sweet Merlin_ it wasn't _that_ funny!

Finally, after he controlled his sounds of scorn, he removed his hand from his mouth and said, "You know, Hermione and Ron are coming soon." For a split second I thought he was making fun of me, telling me that more people were going to come see me in my current state, but then I realized it was a warning. It meant "Get the fuck out of here, if you don't want Hermione and that idiot you call a brother to see you in your clown makeup and rather anomalous clothing."

I nodded, avoiding his eyes as I slowly realized my face was as red as a tomato. At the same time though, I wasn't sure you could tell through my vast expanse of goop and flushed complexion from the exertion of dancing and singing. I hurriedly lay down the cucumber on the counter, turned off the radio, and then rushed towards the stairs, making sure to avoid Harry's eyes. I was on the third step when Harry called, "And Ginny?" I turned to him. "Nice knickers."

That was when I nearly sprinted to the top of the stairs and into my room, thoroughly humiliated.

Harry Potter was the hottest thing that has ever set foot in my house. I guess that wasn't saying much, because the only people that have ever been in my house are my brothers; my brothers' friends who were all ugly in my eyes because for anyone to be friends with my brothers were idiots and obviously mentally unstable, except Harry; random old people that my parents are friends with, and finally my friends. But they're girls – most of them at least. And Hermione is a girl, too. So they don't really count since most things I count as hot are guys. And occasionally soup.

Only something like this would happen to me. _Why_ couldn't it have been someone else who walked through those doors? Why Harry? I mean, if it were the twins or Ron, I would have been embarrassed as well, and they would have teased me for months. But they're related to me, and they already knew I was a completely messed up fourteen year old girl. Harry didn't (hopefully) know that. But now he'd think that I _was_ messed up, which I totally was, but I didn't want _him_ to know it. My cover as a normal (okay, semi-normal) girl was completely blown.

I sighed and threw myself face down on my bed after closing _and_ locking the door… no repeat of the Harry incident, if you please. I groaned into my pillow. I really was stupid most of the time.

Well, at least Hogwarts started in four days, and by that time I didn't have to eat every meal with Harry. Which I was eternally (un)grateful for. (Now I couldn't stare longingly at his pretty face. As often. Which I was rather depressed about.) I wished I had a carton of ice cream. Then I could stuff my face and feel worse about myself, while at the same time consuming a scrumptious frozen treat.

Eventually I decided to stop moping about, and I got up. I looked down at where I was laying to see a collaboration of blue, red, and pink marks. That was enough proof for me to show how much I had spruced up before dancing in my almost-nudey pants.

--

After I had taken a shower, I remained hidden in my room away from everyone (Harry) who returned until my mother called me down for dinner. I made sure I had on a cute outfit (to prove that yes, I could wear pants to Harry) before I went down.

Dinner was uncomfortable. I walked into the kitchen to see salads and plates set for ten. There were only four seats left (as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had yet to arrive). I picked the one that one of the empty seats wasn't next to. I couldn't be near Harry if he chose to sit next to me. It was too humiliating. But, all my efforts were in vain. Harry was the last to sit down and ended up diagonal from me, which was much too close in my opinion, as the table was cramped. I was aware of his presence, but I did my best not to look at him. Just act natural, I told myself repeatedly. But when I thought that, all I could think of was a cow, the twins, and their cow jokes. It was very distracting, and I couldn't help but stare at Harry from the corner of my eye.

He seemed to be acting normal. He wasn't trying to catch my eye, and he hadn't mentioned anything about the earlier kitchen escapade of mine. He obviously hadn't told any one of my brothers, or else I would have been well aware of it by now.

I let out small sigh of relief. At least that was until I accidentally wanted to look at Harry's gorgeous face while he was eating a cucumber slice. He caught my eye, and his lip twitched as he looked from the cucumber, then back to me.

It took all my efforts not to blush brighter than a red hot chili pepper as I glared hatefully at him. I needed a microphone, okay? And the cucumber just happened to be the nearest microphonesque object. It was either that or the banana, and, quite frankly, I had a dirty mind. I couldn't sing into a banana without connecting sexual innuendos to it.

In fact, I bet I was probably a bigger pervert than all of my brothers. Okay, maybe not Fred and George, but pretty close. I blamed it on my age. I was fourteen and in the middle of puberty. Of course my mind was going to be on boys and sex! Well, maybe not _of course_ because I was sure many girls in my year weren't thinking of things like that. But they were prunes and were going to grow old with many cats. They'd be virgins their entire lives or marry their cousin. Or maybe they were just normal.

Oh, whatever, fact was that I used a cucumber to sing into and now me, my family, Hermione, and my crush were eating it. And said crush knew I sang into said cucumber.

It was at this point my mother completely mortified me by asking, "Ginny, dear, do you know where my blush went? I was looking for it when I got home from appliance shopping. Did you take it?" I could feel Harry giving me an amused, knowing smirk as I thought of an answer. I felt like smacking him. Or myself. I couldn't decide who I wanted to hit more; him for being a prat or me for being a loony.

I kept my face blank as I said, "No, mum, I haven't seen it." I knew Harry was now full out smiling, but he hid it well by pretending to take a sip from his glass.

Mum let out a disappointed sigh. "Oh, I was hoping you would. That was my last case." She frowned.

I let out my all-winning-innocent-encouraging smile. "I'm sure it'll turn up." Harry let out a snort, but covered it up by pretending to choke on his water. I wished it were so. He deserved to choke for putting me through humiliating humility – just as long as he choked and lived. Because it would be quite tragic if the hottest guy to ever walk in my house died choking on water at my expense. I could just imagine the funeral. "Here lies Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, killed not at the hands of Voldemort, but Ginny Weasley, her bunny knickers, and her whore attire." Lovely, really.

"Thank you, dear."

I kept the smile on my face as I trained my gaze on Harry, but my eyes gave me away. I was pretty sure Harry realized I was kind of giving him the "shut up or else you will die slowly from castration" look because he sobered up real quick, looking real remorseful for his actions. I didn't believe the act, not for one second, but I let it slide because at least he made the effort to appease me.

"Ginny, could you pass me the salt?" Ron asked, forcing me to break my warning stare from Harry's face. I passed him the salt, and the rest of dinner went by smoothly for the most part.

So now I was in my bed, ready to go to sleep, and I had yet to talk to Harry since the incident. Really, I hadn't talked to Harry much since… well, ever, but occasionally we had short little chats. For example, just the other day I talked to him. It went sort of like this:

Harry: It's raining.

Me: Yup.

Okay, so maybe we didn't have the most insightful conversations, but we commuted… sort of. Well, not really at all, but I was planning on changing that this year. Or, I was planning on changing that this year until I decided to make a total ass out of myself and dance around in my undies. In my kitchen. Where anyone could just walk in. At any time. And someone did. God, I had issues. But I didn't blush around him anymore! Or stick my arm in butter dishes! Well, I did blush around him when I did stupid things like act like a lunatic then get caught in the act. But not about other things! I was so proud of myself.

So, I decided the up and coming year my goal was to branch out and be myself (okay, I didn't think people could really handle _me,_ so maybe I'd only be a little myself) and make Harry think I wasn't a complete and total retard. Now that I had a goal set all I had to do is follow through on it, and I was set.

***Repost - reedited 2/1/09**


	2. In Which the Score Is

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews!**

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: iwishihadsomechocolate aka ValorOrgulloso (I changed my pen name!)**

_**Chapter II: In Which the Score is Ginny: 0, Cho: -1**_

I don't know why we all ended up together in the same compartment, but we did. Loony Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Harry hunksicle Potter, and I.

I was pretty content, except for the fact that my face flushed every two seconds whenever Harry looked at me. If only he hadn't caught me dancing like some crazy raccoon. With rabies. I hadn't blushed once that summer until then (okay, I lie… just not that much)! Now I can't seem to stop blushing. I would put a harsh sunburn to shame. And trust me, I sunburn like crazy. I wear SPF 50, and I still get burnt. And that's after applying it several times. An hour. And then I get freckles. Dammit, woe is me. Yet I'm not sure I used that phrase right. It just makes me sound kind of knowledgeable.

"Do you want to see what my Gran got me?" Neville asked. Then, without waiting for a response, he pulled out a foul looking plant. It was an ugly booger green with boil-like marks on them that looked all pussy. It was rather disgusting. "Mimblus Mimbletonia," he said proudly.

"Um, that's neat, Neville," I said as sincerely as I could. But really, I didn't know a plant could be that ugly. Okay, I did, I just never thought I'd have to actually compliment one. Harry gave his input as well, saying it was cool and asking where was it from, but I could tell he was thinking along the same lines as me. Luna just stared at it. She probably thought it was infested with a whoositkadoodle.

"It's from southern Bolivia. Wanna see what it does?" Neville asked eagerly.

No, I didn't want to see what it did. "Sure, Neville," is what came out of my mouth. Idiot. Why couldn't I keep my big, fat mouth shut? Why was I such a good person? Alright, I'm not that good of a person, but I don't like being mean (often).

Then, before I knew it, Neville's pus mechanism exploded. He prodded it with a quill. I love him dearly (not that dearly anymore after this little incident), but seriously, what would have inclined anyone to poke dangerous looking plant with the sharp end of anything?

Luckily, I had brought my hands up in time to block out most of the smelly pus from hitting my face. Ew. I almost longed for being at home getting caught dancing in my underwear. Almost, yet not quite. This was far less embarrassing. Just nastier.

And, to top off this perfect situation, perfect Cho walked in. She saw Harry, covered in goo and then looked at Luna, Neville, and I. Though, I could swear she was looking at me with thinly veiled disgust. And I don't think that because I have low self-esteem or anything.

I would like to think she was disgusted with the gunk, but I doubt it. She just hates me. No idea why.

She said something, looking at Harry, who looked a little uncomfortable, but I was too busy glaring at her to pay attention what she said. So maybe we just have always had a mutual disliking for each other. She's popular, and I'm more so (I tell myself this often; I'm almost convinced), so what's not to hate about each other?

Or we have mutual distaste for one another because of Harry. He's hot, I like him, she's not, he likes her. At least I think he does. I'm no fool to think that he likes me. So my goal is to get him to notice me. In fact, today I wore a mini skirt and a green tank top to grab his attention. I don't know if it worked, but I like to think he's all muddled up inside when he looks at me. He'll fall desperately in love with me. First, for my body, and second, for my charming personality.

Yeah, so a little shallow, but I can dream… right?

Cho left after I had glared myself out. Harry seemed a little confused, which I took to be a good thing. Cho confuses Harry, and I don't (that much)! Ginny: 0, Cho: -1. Because, really, I didn't earn any points, Cho just lost one. I'm so fair I impress myself.

It was then, after all this deep thinking, that I realized we all looked like the Boogie Monster, part deux. I thought of a way to get it off of us, and, thankfully, I remembered mum had taught me a cleaning spell last summer when I had to spend a day to clean the entire house with my brothers. I didn't get to use magic, but my mum told me for future reference.

"_Scourgify_," I said firmly, and every last trace of goo disappeared.

Harry smiled at me, said "Thanks", and I was sure if I was standing I would go weak in the knees. As it was, I got so flustered I tried to brush a piece of my hair out of my face, I set off a chain reaction by elbowing Luna in the face, causing her to throw her magazine on Neville, who dropped his plant on Harry's foot, who jerked it to get the Mimblus Mimbletonia off and ended up kicking me in the shin. _Hard._

"Ow!" I cried loudly, grabbing my leg in pain.

"Oh my God, Ginny, are you okay? I'm so sorry!" Harry apologized profusely. He kept saying sorry to the point where I had to stop him. Neville picked up his plant and handed Luna her magazine, _the Quibbler_, back.

"Harry!" I barked, and he shut up immediately, looking immensely guilty. I rolled my eyes. "It's fine, Harry. I think I'll live."

When my words did nothing to appease him I said, "_Really_."

He looked hesitantly at by leg, which I had curled up. I realized now that he could probably see my underwear. I quickly lowered my leg before any comments about my duck knickers could be made.

"It's bruising," Harry observed, frowning.

"It's fine," I assured him.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"I kicked you."

"Yes."

"Aren't you mad?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not hurt."

"Yes, you—"

"Harry!"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

And with that, Harry bit his lip to refrain from talking. I looked over to see Neville and Luna, well, mostly Neville (Luna was reading her magazine… upside-down?), looking at me hesitantly.

I sighed loudly. "I. Am. _Fine._" I told Neville (and a little bit to Harry).

"I really am sorry!" Harry apologized.

"Are you ever going to let this go?" I asked him, getting a _teensy_ bit irritated. Harry was sweet, yet obnoxious. And really, really ridiculously good-looking.

Harry shook his head. "No." I sighed again. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "How?"

Harry shrugged, then seemed to seriously consider. "You could kick me back—"

"Tempting, but no."

"—or I could do your homework for a month—"

"Now, _that's_ an attractive idea. But I don't want to fail my exams, so no." Harry still wouldn't shut up.

"—or I could carry your books for you as long as you want—"

"FINE!" I shouted loudly. Everyone in the compartment froze, including me. I was a little shocked with myself, actually. Harry just wouldn't be quiet, and I had to do something or I threatened to poke the Mimblus Mimbletonia with a sharp object and have Boogie Monster, part trois. Just so Harry would stop being cutely annoying. Because, really, he was a cutie. I wonder what he would say if I told him that. He would get embarrassed probably, but I would be happy because he would deserve it.

It was then that I realized the compartment had been in a shocked silence for the past thirty seconds; which doesn't seem that long when you say it like that, but, really, when everyone is staring at you like you have a third head any amount of time can seem too long.

Finally, Harry smiled. "Okay."

I raised an eyebrow, in a way that I hoped looked elegant and seductive. "What?" My tone didn't line up to the seductive and elegant part. I sounded pissy and confused.

"I'll carry your books for you!" Harry looked eager. Which was great, and probably something I wanted, but he was getting on my nerves. And when people get on my nerves, however hot they are, I can't help but get irritated. And show it.

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because—" I stopped. "Because I said so!" My reasoning never ceased to amaze me.

"That's a horrible reason!" Harry argued. Apparently he had a different opinion than me when it came to how amazing my reasoning was.

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Hey!"

"Hey, what?"

"'Hey, you called my reasoning bologna!'"

"I called it horrible."

"Same difference!"

"Bologna's a processed lunch meat."

"So?"

"So will you let me carry your books to show you how sorry I am?"

"Never!"

"Why'd you agree earlier then?"

"I didn't agree!"

"Don't lie."

"Okay."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's an 'I'll think about it.'"

"Yes, then."

I rolled my eyes again, and then turned to face the window. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry grinning. I also saw Neville. He looked very confused. Good, sweet boy. Unlike Harry. I go from wanting to strangle him half the time to wanting to snog him senseless the other half. If we ever had a relationship, it'd be an odd one.

I sighed, looking at the rolling hills of England. Life is weird.

**_I bet if this story gets into higher chapter numbers, I'm going to have to look up the Roman numerals I use at the beginning of each chapter. I'm going to band camp tomorrow, so this is my little send off. Please review! _**


	3. In Which There's Dean

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: iwishihadsomechocolate**

_**Chapter III: In Which There's Dean**_

The first day of classes is finally over! I'm exhausted. But not for the reason most would think. No, the reason I'm exhausted has nothing to do with the fact that I have homework for the first time in three months, nor were the classes tiring. It has to do with one fifth year boy that won't stop pestering me. He wants to carry my books. I said no. He said I said that he could. I said that I said I'd think about it. He said that he said that meant yes. I said that what I said didn't mean what he said.

And I would have let him carry my books if all he did was effing agree with me! Obviously that was too hard. So I told Harry Potter he could leave me the duck alone. He then told me I wasn't a duck. So I walked away. He stalked me the rest of the day. Which was a pretty nice feeling, actually. _Harry Potter_ stalking _me_.

It's kind of odd, I guess, that I'm like super excited Harry Potter is stalking me; I never said I wasn't odd, though.

So here I am, sitting in the common room at nine o'clock, reading a chapter for Transfiguration class. I haven't seen Harry since dinner. I keep on glancing up in hopes that he's there, stalking me.

"Hey, Ginny."

Well, that made me jump like ten feet in the air. God dammit, my book fell on the floor, and I lost my place!

I turned around to see Dean Thomas leaning on the back of my chair. I was disappointed. Harry's not a very loyal stalker.

"Oh, hey, Dean," I said as enthusiastically as I could. Why was he talking to me? I know him by sight, but I've never actually stopped to chat with him before. Maybe he's just friendly and polite. Maybe I'm just antisocial and mean.

"What're you doing?" He asked, taking a seat in the chair next to mine. He rolled up his sleeves. Was it just me or was he flexing his arms? Should I feel threatened?

"Oh, just reading for Transfiguration. It's on how to change a cat into a dog." I said this in a way that should make him feel threatened if he intends to do me any harm. If he thinks like I do, he would understand that metaphorically he is a cat and I am learning how to transfigure him into a dog. I don't think he understood this, though, so my threat was unheard.

"Really? We didn't do that until after Christmas last year!" Dean exclaimed excitedly. He flexed his arms a little more. What the hell?

"Oh, well, I guess your class wasn't quite as advanced as ours is," I said jokingly. Inside, though, I was confused. Why was he talking to me? Were the arm contractions some form of Morse code?

"I wouldn't be surprised," he agreed, flashing a pearly white smile at me. His arm tightened several times again.

Then it hit me. He was trying to flirt with me! I mean, why else would he be sitting this close to me, flexing his arms, and smiling at me if he wasn't? In all honesty, his muscles weren't that big. That's probably why he had to flex them to make them appear bigger.

I didn't know how to tell him I wasn't interested. My plan was to get Harry, not Dean. So instead I said, "Let's finish this conversation tomorrow, because I really _do_ need to finish this chapter or McGonagall will skin me alive." There, a nice and easy let down. Now go away.

"Alright. See you tomorrow, Ginny," he said, and then smiled at me again, flexing his arms a little more. He walked away and went up the boys' staircase. I picked up my book from where it fell. Weird but sweet: that's what I labeled Dean Thomas as after that conversation.

--

It had been a week since the Dean incident, and Harry's stalking wasn't a complete disappointment. He would find me before and after almost every class and offer to carry my books. I would have tried avoiding him if I didn't like all of the attention I was getting from him.

It was during my free period that I heard a most _interesting_ conversation. I had walked into the library and scanned the shelves for anything that caught my eye. I was in one of the middle rows when I heard voices coming from the opposite side of the bookshelf. I wouldn't normally eavesdrop on people's private chats, but it was Harry's and Hermione's voices I heard.

"… and she's such a bitch!" came Harry's voice.

"I know, Harry, I know," Hemione answered.

"I'll do whatever it takes just to avoid her in the halls from now on." Avoid who?

"That's a good idea, Harry. Then you would stop getting yelled at by that hag. It would save you a lot of misery." Me? Was it me? I yelled at Harry in the halls. God, I hope it's not me.

"And the way she flaunts around like she owns the place… it makes me sick just to think that the books—" Books? My books? My books make Harry sick? Does it make him sick that I don't let him carry my books? I'll make sure if he asks again to let him carry them. I don't want him to be sick because of me! And I don't _flaunt_! I stroll.

"Me, too. But there's nothing we can do!"

There was a pause.

"Maybe there is." I jumped as I heard Ron's voice. I didn't know he was there! Traitor! Talking about me behind my back with his two best friends! One who is one of the few girls I'm friends with, and the other, who is really sexy. But I guess they're all traitors. I mean, I'm buds with them. Why are they going behind my back? Am I really that mean? Maybe I am. Maybe I shouldn't have made fun of Neville's plant in my head. Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh when Harry kicked me and just wanted to apologize. Maybe I should have let Harry carry my books. I mean, it was his way of not feeling guilty. Maybe Harry can read minds. Maybe he knows what goes on in my mind. Oh, God, he knows that I think he's a hunksicle and all of my embarrassing thoughts! I bet he hates me!

In my panic, I didn't hear the rest of the conversation until the last few words were said.

"… is the perfect revenge," finished Hermione's voice. Revenge? On me?

I fled the library quickly, the hurt settling in nicely. And to add the perfect cherry on top of the perfect sundae, I ran into Dean Thomas, quite literally.

He steadied me and kept me from falling over by grabbing my shoulders. I took a deep breath to calm myself for this confrontation.

"Hey, where are you off to in such a rush?" He asked, smiling. He obviously didn't understand that I was upset. As such, I didn't want to let on that I was. So I lied.

"Oh, I forgot that I had to finish up an essay before Potions. It's next. And it's in my dorm. So I need to go there. And get it. Like now." I had very little finesse at the moment. But I was very hurt and sad, and I wanted to cry, dammit!

"Before you go, do you think I could ask something?" he asked eagerly. I almost sighed. Go away, weird but sweet one.

"Sure." My thoughts never seemed to match my actions.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me next week?"

"Okay!" I said quickly. I just wanted him to leav—wait! But he was already gone, grinning that grin he grins.

I fumed for a minute, not moving. I didn't want to go with Dean to Hogsmeade. But then I paused and thought about it.

I begrudgingly let myself admit that Dean wasn't so bad. He was nice. But there was always that one set back. He's not Harry. But Harry hates me now. He's getting revenge on me. Because I'm a mean psycho bitch.

I sighed. Deciding I was still very upset with the events that had happened before I bumped into Dean, I went up into my dorm and spent the remainder of my free time crying.

**A/N: School starts on tuesday. I'm upset. Review!**


	4. In Which Ginny is Hysteric

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: TromboneChampion (I change my pen name WAY too much)**

**_Chapter IV: In Which Ginny is Hysteric_**

I was depressed. It was Hogsmeade weekend. I was going with Dean Thomas. I didn't want to go with him. I wanted to sit around and mope.

Harry hadn't stalked me since I heard him talking to Ron and Hermione in the library. Actually, I had barely gotten a glance of any of the trio the entire week. It made me uncharacteristically sad. So sad that I started using long words like _uncharacteristically_. So sad that I failed the Care of Magical Creatures test Hagrid had set for us last Wednesday; which is totally ridiculous, because that was my easiest subject. All I could do was think about what they said in the library and how they planned to get revenge on me because of my bitchy issues.

So, here I was, dragging my feet and cheap polyester bag down a flight of steps to the Entrance Hall where Dean said he wanted to meet.

I got there much too soon, and I was disappointed to find that Dean was there waiting. I had hoped he had gotten ill or forgotten about our date. I felt a false smile automatically appear on my face as I went up to greet him.

"Hello, Dean," I said cheerfully.

He smiled at me. "Hey, Ginny. Ready to go?"

"Erm, sure!" I answered. We made our way awkwardly out of the castle, our conversation forced at some moments (okay, all moments).

Once we got past Filch's inspection, inside the carriages, and into Hogsmeade, I was relieved. Small talk was hard when it seemed the two people making it had very little in common.

We did the usual rounds of the shops until about one o'clock, when Dean chuckled as my stomach growled loudly and proposed that we stop by the Three Broomsticks.

We entered the pub and took a seat near the center. Dean offered to go up and wait in the long line to get us food and butterbeer. I agreed. I needed some moping time alone; even if it was in a crowded room.

As luck would have it, at the exact moment Dean went up, the scheming three entered the restaurant with a jingle of the bells attached to the door. I watched them as they made their way through the crowd. They saw me and made their way over to my table.

When they sat down at my table, I was confused. Don't they hate me? Is this part of their revenge?

"Hullo, Ginny," the three chorused. I eyed them suspiciously.

"What're you doing here?" I asked sharply.

I saw Hermione raise an eyebrow. The deviant, plotting witch.

"Well, there's a thing called my stomach. And there's a thing called food. And there's a thing called 'I'm starving," Ron answered.

I glared at them. "No, I mean, why're you here with me?"

"I didn't know you didn't want us here, Ginny," Hermione answered stiffly. "We'll leave if you have such a problem with us."

I snorted loudly, drawing looks from other tables. But I didn't care. I was angry at them. I wasn't going to fall for their so-called innocent act. "You're one to talk," I muttered loudly.

"What's your problem?" Harry finally asked. He had been quiet during the entire thing up until that point.

"My problem?" I asked incredulously. "_MY_ _problem?_" My tone caused Hermione and Ron to back up ever so slightly in their chairs. Harry just glared, but he didn't cower. Of course not, I thought resentfully, if a bit logically, he's the boy who lived.

"Yes, _your_ problem," Harry nearly shouted. Now we were getting a lot of stares from neighboring tables.

"Well, _Harry Potter_," I started rather impressively, if I do say so myself, "_my_ problem is you three scheming behind my back. _My_ problem is that I feel betrayed by three people I _thought_ cared about me. _My_ problem is that I guess I was wrong!" My voice steadily grew louder through my little rant. By the time it was over, anyone within twenty feet was silent and watching. I was standing. I couldn't recall at what point I had gotten out of my chair.

Harry gave me such a bewildered look I almost smacked him. That would not end well, though, so I restrained myself. "_What are you talking about?_" Harry rasped out.

I stood there in silence for a moment. I was fuming. I turned quickly and walked out of the pub before I did something I regretted.

Too bad Harry followed me. I made it out of the pub and three shops down before Harry grabbed my arm and turned me to face him.

"Just leave me alone!" I shouted, roughly shoving Harry's hand off of my arm. I turned to walk away, but I only made it a few feet before Harry grabbed my arm again.

"Please – tell me what's wrong!" Harry begged desperately. I glared at him.

And then I did something that felt very nice, if I do say so myself, given the current situation. I slapped Harry straight across the cheek. "You back stabber! You let me _go!_" I shrieked. I writhed as I tried to struggle out of his grip.

"Just – just – _stop!_" Harry ordered, still recovering from my rather well-placed smack. He gripped both of my arms in a tight hold, preventing me from running. It was a useless fight, so I gave in regretfully.

It took a few seconds, but I finally stopped moving. I stood still, staring at my feet in fury, completely silent.

"Now," Harry's voice cracked nervously. "Why are you so mad at me?"

I could feel the tears swell up in my eyes, hot and fat and ready to fall. I didn't even _know_ why I was so mad. I didn't know if I was mad at Harry or Ron or Hermione or Dean or myself. In my confusion of the source of my emotions, I didn't realize the tears had released and were rolling down my face. And, much to my horror, big, heaving sobs shook my shoulders.

"Oh – um – er – hey – it's alright…," Harry trailed off awkwardly. I felt long, lanky arms wrap around my shaking shoulders as I let out a huge bawl. I shoved my face in to Harry's ratty shirt.

"H – Harry! I – I'm s – sorry. I d – don't even kn – know why I'm cr – crying!"

Harry attempted to sooth me by awkwardly rubbing my back. It was clear he was not used to comforting people – least of all a crazy, sobbing, red-headed freak like me. I felt one of Harry's arms release me and the other wrap around my waist.

He started leading me away, but I couldn't see where we were going because my tears clouded my vision.

It was at least ten minutes before I could make out anything remotely other than brown and green blurs. My tears started to slow down. My breathing went from heaves to occasional hiccups. I could see Hogwarts about a half-mile away in the distance. Harry was bringing me back to Hogwarts. Now I felt bad for disrupting his day… even if I was angry.

I glanced at Harry (he was only a few inches taller than me) to see him staring determinedly at his feet. I was embarrassed and more than a little ashamed.

I stopped walking, pulling Harry to a halt beside me.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him, shoving my face back into his shirt. That's how I started my confession. "I'm so sorry! I know I'm a psycho bitch! I know I should let you carry my books if you want to! It is a little irritating, but you deserve to do whatever you want! You're selfless and kind and you should be treated with respect! I deserve to be punished. So whatever revenge you planned in the library, let it loose! I'm a horrible person! I don't deserve your kindness!"

Harry was still during the entire duration of my speech. He was still for a few more seconds before I began to feel him shake. In rage? I backed off slowly and opened my eyes.

Smiling.

Harry Potter was smiling. No. Chuckling. Laughing. Dying.

Harry Potter was bent over laughing harder than I had ever seen him laugh. His baritone chuckle rang loud and clear over the empty road before us. He clutched his stomach, his face turning red.

He gasped for breath only to take one look at my confused face to keel over in a fit of giggles once more.

"I-" Harry gasped, gulping in air, "I guess I should explain some things." He was grinning like a maniac and kept letting out an occasional burp of laughter. I would have glared at him if I wasn't so darn confused. I almost huffed in irritation. _Boys_.

"Let's walk," Harry said, looping my arm through his and leading us back to Hogwarts. He had a lot of explaining to do.

**A/N: As always, please review. And thanks to everyone who reviewed, put this on alerts or favorites, or put me as an alert or favorite :) J'adore vous! -- That's most likely improper French. Au revoir!**


	5. In Which A Lot Happens

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: thewoolsweater (this is getting ridiculous, I can't think of a good penname, so I change it every week. Maybe I'll change it back to ValorOrgulloso.)**

**_Chapter V: In Which A Lot Happens_**

"Umbridge?" I shouted. "_Umbridge!_"

Harry, who was standing in front of me, stared off across the lake and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Do I make him nervous when I shout? I certainly do when I cry. I'm sorry, Harry! I just have problems, and my incredulity isn't really directed (harmfully) at you! But, anyways, "_UMBRIDGE!_"

A little more rubbing, then: "Erm, yeah." Oh, _very_ loquacious.

"You, Harry Potter, intend to tell me that you were talking about _Umbridge? That_ dumb bitch?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief. His eyes darted around as if looking to find a way out of this situation. _C'est dommage, mon ami_. Too bad.

"Yeah."

"And, I've been pulling my hair out with shame and regret when I thought you were talking about _me?_"

"You have?"

"I – yes! I care what you think about me!" I was baffled. Why wouldn't I have been pulling my hair out with shame and regret when Harry 'the hunk' Potter was supposedly talking bad about me and his plotting revenge?

"You do?" I didn't like that grin that was blossoming on that wonderfully handsome face.

"Well, of course," I stated as it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was. To me, at least. "Why wouldn't I care what you think about me? You're –"

"I care what you think of me, too," Harry blurted out suddenly. "I mean, you're smart, funny, gorgeous…" He trailed off awkwardly in a very quiet voice, but the silence after that statement was even more intensified on the naked grounds. We stood there staring at each other for a moment. Slowly, my mind went from _Whoa there, buddy _mode into _Aw, you're so sweet!_ mode. I pulled Harry into like the tenth gazillionth hug that day.

I decided to say what I was thinking at that moment: "Aw, you're so _sweet!_" And he was. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Like I _matter. _To him! When things like this happen, it's hard to not understand how I adore him more and more every day.

After a few long moments of my-face-in-Harry's-beautifully-toned-chest, I pulled back before he became more nervous than he already was. God, he probably thinks I have some bipolar disorder; well, that or that I'm completely crazy.

But he was grinning shyly at me, his gaze dropping from my face to the ground then back again. My heart almost melted right then and there.

Without a word, we made our way back to the castle. It was a long walk, since we were on a far side of the lake. As we were passing a rather pretty autumn tree, I felt a hand slip into mine. I looked up to see Harry smiling a little, a pink hue kissing his cheeks. He was staring at the ground. I squeezed his hand and bumped my shoulder against his. He laughed softly. A huge Cheshire smile erupted onto my face; one that I couldn't suppress even if I wanted to.

---

Oddly enough, we spent the rest of the afternoon doing homework quietly in the library. It was fairly empty except for the occasional first or second year browsing the shelves. We sat directly across from each other so that I was facing the wall-covering window overlooking Hogsmeade, while he was facing the huge, oak-door library entrance. We didn't talk much, but I couldn't help but keep looking up at Harry, only to find him swiftly averting his gaze back to his papers with a little cough to "clear his throat."

He was so adorable, in a masculine kind of way, and I just _swooned_ whenever I looked up to see him brush a rumpled black lock out of his eyes. I sighed in contentment. After we had gotten the whole "who were you talking about in the library" thing sorted out, I was feeling a lot better than I had in a while. That and the fact that he called me smart, funny, _and_ gorgeous helped improve my mood significantly.

Something had happened between us, that was for sure, and whatever it was made me dance on air. When Harry took my hand I just about died. I sighed dreamily thinking about it, and Harry looked at me with that knowing look he has. What? So I'm a bit disgustingly mushy and sentimental about Harry. But, hey, who wouldn't be smitten, with those stunning eyes, kind heart, and tight ass?

A little before dinner, people started returning, and we regretfully (well, I at least) walked back to the common room to get cleaned up. We had our bags on our shoulders, so there were minimum holding-hand opportunities (which I had wished to repeat). But, before we went up to our different dormitories, Harry gave me another adorable smile and grasped my hand softly. He let go after a moment, but it was enough to make that goofy grin to return and me to melt into a puddle of goo.

At dinner, I sat with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Harry was to my right while Ron and Hermione were across from me. When I had gotten to dinner, I hadn't seen them, but Harry found me and dragged me over (well, not exactly _dragged_ since I was entirely willing). I normally sat with my roommates, but I wasn't upset _at all_ for a change in seating arrangements. Ron and Hermione just gave us a look, apparently confused yet glad to see I wasn't acting like a fucking psycho anymore.

I was tempted to reach over and grab Harry's hand, wanting to feel what I had felt earlier. Oh, yeah, we _connected_. That, my friends, in the Muggle world, is what we call "good chemistry." But, to squash the overwhelming urge to grip Harry's hand in a death claw and never let go, I forced myself to eat with my right hand even though I used my left. This made me spill my mashed potatoes all over my lap, but at least I didn't grab Harry's hand.

I wasn't totally sure what this whole hand-holding gaga-eyes thing meant between Harry and me, but I didn't want to hold his hand in front of a bunch of people to give them the wrong impression. Not that it would be a _bad _impression, but if I don't know even what's going on, I don't want other people to tell me. So, I forced myself to eat with my right hand, effectively dripping some pudding onto my favorite jumper. _Lovely_.

---

Over the next week, Harry and I had a mutual agreement: don't hold hands in public, meet in the library at eight, don't discuss what's happening.

So, as I sat in the library on Friday night, I wondered, _Why the _fuck_ am I doing homework on a Friday night?_

"Harry?" asked I. As I looked up, Harry pretended that he wasn't observing me; no, he was looking past my shoulder at the totally interesting, neatly-stacked folding chairs leaning up against the wall.

Looking at me _again_ he returned, "Yeah?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why the fuck are we doing homework on a Friday night?"

Harry stared at me for a few seconds, then looked down at his blank parchment that only had, in a messy scrawl, _Harry Potter_. This was probably a result of him staring at me the entire time we've been in the library. And, looking down at my own parchment, I wasn't much better off. While I hadn't been staring longingly at Harry (which I normally wish to do… I just have to hold back these urges… hold back!), I _had_ been a bit distracted by his gaze. Okay, so _a lot_ distracted.

He struggled for a response. "Um… err… well… we, um, kind of…" This made me smile at him. Not that I wasn't before – he makes me ridiculously glad anyways. He was just so damn cute! He was flustered around me. Before last week he wasn't so flustered – that was me. Now our roles were reversed. The thought made me happy with cheerful irony.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, I suggested, "Let's go for a walk outside."

"Um, alright, but, um, you know, it's kind of cold." Harry seemed okay with this since he didn't say _um _or _er_ too many times.

I was prepared. "It's taken care of! _Accio coats!_" I commanded. After a minute, two floating coats came floating through the library entrance. A group of Hufflepuff third years, who were just walking through the doors, jumped, pointing at the jackets with some amount of wonderment.

Harry half grinned. _Swoon_. "Okay. Let's go."

So off we went, coats and all, leaving our books under the chairs with a Notice-Me-Not charm on them, courtesy of Harry. We really didn't want the hassle of carrying our books all the way up to our dorms; besides, we'd come back for them in the morning.

We weren't really allowed out this late at night, a quarter to nine, so we were as quiet as possible while leaving. Harry said he would've summoned his invisibility cloak if he wasn't so afraid that someone might snatch it out of the air or see it on the way down. So we crept around corners and giggled whenever one accidentally ran into the other or stepped on a foot. Harry's warm hand found mine, and we fled across the entrance hall to the doors quickly, giggling and trying to keep quiet. When we finally got outside, we broke apart and ran across the lawn.

Once we were a decent distance away from the school, I collapsed on the crisp lawn, rolling onto my back, laughing. Harry joined me moments later. We lay there, exhilarated with silliness.

"Now _this_ is _much_ better than doing homework," Harry sighed.

"So much," I agreed. "Now I'm actually allowed to be loud enough to ask you an important question."

"And what question would that be?" Harry asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

I looked up at the diamonds that were stars and said slowly, "What exactly was so _fascinating_ about those chairs that you couldn't help but stare at them all night?" I was teasing, but I couldn't help it; it felt like an outside force was making be bolder than usual.

Harry took a minute to respond to that, and, since I couldn't see his face, I didn't know how he was feeling. "Well, you see, these chairs are pretty special," Harry said in a calm voice, but there was something underneath the calm exterior that I couldn't define. "They're not like other ordinary chairs. These chairs are unique and one of a kind. They are strong and sturdy, comfortable and cozy, and, most of all, perfect for me."

I rolled onto my side; Harry's face was half in the shadows, half in the moonlight. I've said many times that he's hot and sexy and adorable and a hundred other things, but, in that moment, the only word I could think of to describe him was beautiful. Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but he really _was_. He had, pardon the upcoming cheesiness of this statement, a beautiful soul, and I was glad he was there with me.

"Harry," I said quietly. His head turned sharply to look at me and he sat up too fast and I could tell he was nervous; after all, he had just been bolder than even I, and it was daring and incredible. I didn't even mind that I was being compared to chairs, because it was Harry saying it, and he did it in the sweetest way, and he didn't even know he was doing it.

"Harry," I repeated. Our faces were inches apart.

"Hmm?" he asked. He licked his lips.

I didn't think. I just did. I leaned forward and pushed my lips against his. Harry grunted in surprise, but I didn't stop. It was messy and our noses bumped and teeth scraped and we were inexperienced and it only lasted a moment, but, oh, it was perfect in my eyes.

We pulled apart and looked at each other with overexcited eyes and heaving chests. I still lay propped on my elbow, and Harry still was sitting.

"So what does this mean?" I whispered after a moment of breathlessness had passed. "What are we?"

Harry licked his lips again, and I still felt my lips tingling from where they had been. "I mean, if you want to – we could – we could be – you know – you could be my – my girlfriend," Harry stuttered.

I could barely contain myself when I laughed, "Okay!"

Harry grinned wider than I'd ever seen him grin. "Okay."

We lay back down on the grass, the cool October breeze cutting across our faces.

**_A/N: As always thanks to everyone that has given me statistics to look at and reviews to read. _C'est Dommage, mon ami_ means _Too bad, my friend_. Please review; any constructive critisism is welcome, but please don't bash me too much! I try!_**


	6. In Which Herpes Happens

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**_Chapter VI: In Which Herpes Happens_**

"Hide! Someone's coming!" Harry hissed at me. I grabbed his arm giggling, pulling him into a large, empty cupboard. I heard the classroom door open, and I tried to steady my breathing and quiet giggles. It was hard though because there wasn't much room in the cupboard with both of us in it, and my back was pressed up against his lean chest.

"Shh!" shushed Harry. It took a lot of effort, but I stifled my incessant chuckling.

"Now what's this all about, Mr. Malfoy?" I heard McGonagall's voice ring out. I peeked through a crack in the cupboard to see McGonagall hurrying around her desk for biscuits and tea, while Malfoy ashamedly sat in one of the seats near the front. I could only see him from the side, his face hidden because it was turned the other way. His shoulders were slumped.

"I –" Malfoy cleared his throat loudly. "I'm in a spot of trouble, and I didn't know who I could come to for advice." Harry and I looked at each other. I could see the silent question reflected in his eyes. I mouthed _Advice?,_ and he added _From McGonagall?_

We turned back to the scene unfolding.

"Well, I'm glad you could felt comfortable enough to come to me," said McGonagall kindly, settling the tea and biscuits in front of Malfoy and taking a seat in front of him.

There was a long pause. "Well, I've had some issues… relieving."

"Relieving?" came McGonagall's surprised voice. "Why, I'm unsure what you mean."

Malfoy slumped a little lower and grabbed a biscuit. He took a bite.

"It's just… it's just it hurts to use the loo."

I felt Harry's chest rumble. I turned around and playfully stuck an accusing finger in his face. He raised his eyebrows, and I glared at him and turned back around. He grabbed a lock of my hair and nudged his nose under my ear, feathering my neck in light pecks. _Very distracting_. It was a few moments later that Harry stopped his ministrations. It took me a couple seconds to recover. Once I did, I realized we had missed a bit of the conversation.

"… perfectly natural, if a bit irresponsible on your part. Go to Madam Pomfrey, and I'm sure she'll give you some medicine to help. You should recover in the next few days. And remember, think next time."

Malfoy quietly said thanks and left the classroom. McGonagall cleaned up the half-eaten biscuits, muttering, "_Genital herpes... so_ _irresponsible!_"

I snorted loudly, and Harry's chest moved again. Malfoy came to McGonagall to discuss his genital _herpes!_ McGonagall looked around the room suspiciously for a moment, and I covered my mouth. She started towards the cupboard we were in, and I held my breath. Behind me, I could feel Harry's heart beat fast. She was just about to touch the handle and…

"Professor!" panted a small first year. "Professor, Eugene has gotten stuck! An enchanted toilet grabbed his arm and won't let go!"

McGonagall sighed loudly, and turned to address the problem. "Lead the way." McGonagall and the first year left quickly, the first year ranting on excitedly.

I exhaled a large breath, and Harry sagged. I pushed open the door and exited, Harry following closely behind. I sat down in one of the chairs and laughed, "Malfoy has herpes!"

Harry laughed right along with me until he got a devious gleam in his eye. "Who do you think gave it to him?"

It took me a second to comprehend what he meant. When I did: "Ah, ew! Harry! Gross! Bad image! Who would sleep with_ that _slimeball!"

"Someone obviously did."

I got up, and I slapped him lightly on the arm. "Oh stop, I'd rather not think of Malfoy with _anyone_ thank you very much."

Harry laughed and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. We walked towards the door, but before we opened it, Harry pulled me into a long kiss. Once we were done, he smiled down at me, but sadly looked at the door. I sighed and opened it, knowing there would be no affection outside of these closed doors.

Which brings me to the point why we were even in McGonagall's classroom in the first place.

Snogging. Me and Harry were snogging. _Snogging!_ In McGonagall's classroom!

It had been a month since our first kiss, and no one else knew about our relationship yet. We wanted to keep it to ourselves for now – Harry mostly. He said most everything in his life was put on display for the world to see, and, just once, he wanted something of his own. Once I understood, it was hard to be offended that he didn't want people to know that we were dating.

So we had to settle on friendly conversations and platonic shoulder pats in public, only allowing us to show our true affection behind closed doors. But in a way, this was good. It helped Harry and I establish a good base to our relationship. Since we were only allowed to talk when others could see us, we learned more about each other than we would've if we were like every other disgustingly mushy couple. What with kissing and gazing into each other's eyes, I bet the only thing other couples know about each other is what color eyes they have and what the back of their throat tastes like.

No. It was definitely best this way. And Ron couldn't heckle us about not kissing and all of that. I know he would if he found out we were dating. _Dating!_

Sometimes I couldn't get over the fact that Harry Potter was mine. Harry Fucking-Gorgeous Potter was mine. And I couldn't be happier.

---

It was one week until Christmas break, and Harry and I hadn't stopped seeing each other in private. We normally had to find a secluded corridor or classroom or wait up late in the common room until everyone went to sleep. It was risky, I knew that. But I liked this relationship too much to care. I liked Harry too much. It seemed as if every day I liked Harry more and more, fell deeper and deeper into him.

If I thought I thought he was great at the beginning of the year when he caught me dancing in my knickers, it compared nothing to my feelings for him now. I sighed, doodling little hearts on my homework. My head was propped up on my hand and I stared at the dark blizzard storming outside. I sighed dreamily again. It was late, and I doubted anyone was up. My eyes kept drooping, but Harry was in detention with Snape for who knows what, and I wanted to wait up for him.

I glanced at the old Roman numeral clock to see it was one thirty. I sighed again. It couldn't hurt to rest my head for just a moment…

"_Ginny,_" a voice whispered.

"Hmm…" I mumbled.

"Ginny." I slowly opened my eyes. It was still dark outside. _Tired_.

My eyes half-closed, I wrapped my arms around Harry's neck, burying my face into his chest. "Hey, Harry," I whispered.

"You're cold," he noticed.

I smiled at him, "I won't be for much longer now that you're here." He stroked my cheek in the gentlest way; I couldn't help but feel my stomach flip over.

He helped me stand up and led me over to the over-stuffed chesterfield in front of the fire.

"So what'd Snape make you do?" I asked Harry, not taking my eyes off of his face. I brushed a soft lock out of his eyes.

He grimaced. "I don't think you want to know."

I laughed lightly, "That bad, huh?"

He nodded, "Worse." Then he smiled at me. "I know what could make it better."

"And what's that?" I asked him.

"This," he said, and he promptly kissed me.

I sighed and kissed him back, so used to his lips. It seemed, though, that every time we kissed I just wanted him more. Either his lips were my heroine, or I was falling for this kid. Hard.

**_So this chapter is really short, and kind of not the best, but I wrote it tonight when I decided to skip my 3 hour swim practice. Mucho thanks to everyone reading, reviewing, alerting, and faving! Vous etes magnifique! Review again!_**


	7. In Which There're Monsieurs

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter VII: In Which There's Monsieurs Sadistic and Supreme**

"Ten points from Gryffindor!"

I looked up in a daze; I had been daydreaming. In potions. Which I suppose was pretty stupid of me. Because Snape is a maniac out to get me. Unable to come up with anything else in my groggy state, I let out an overly loud, "What?" A few people chuckled, and I felt a blush betray me.

Snape, who was telling us something or other before I was rudely grabbed from my reminiscing, narrowed his black eyes at me. "Do you think you are amusing, Weasley?" he drawled. I was about to let out a sarcastic, "Occasionally," but Snape cut me off.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek."

I heard my classmates groan. "Enough!" Snape barked. "Now get to work!"

Everyone scurried around for ingredients, not wanting to endure Mr. Sadistic's wrath.

I started working on my potion with my partner, Delia Pritz, a Gryffindor. She was alright at potions, and she was nice to me before and after the whole chamber incident. We weren't great friends, but we stuck together when slimy men like Snape were around.

Delia was quiet, never invasive, and generally kind to everyone. So, I was a little surprised when she trapped me in a rather interesting conversation.

"So what are you doing for Christmas break? Going home?" Delia asked, swiping a long strand of brown hair out of her eyes.

I added a few crushed goat toenails to the potion, quietly murmuring, "Well, I planned to, but I may go to a… family friend's home." Sirius Black. I had to visit Grimmauld Place, and Sirius, a few times over the summer, and, let me tell you, it was a dark, dank, spooky, dirty, and a million other adjectives house. My mother said that we may have to stay there, what with the older part of my family in the Order. She said that someone had to take care of the place over Christmas while Order members popped in and out. Christmas break was in less than a week.

"What about you?" I returned out of courtesy. Delia was a bit dull; that may be mean to say, but it's true. She had very little personality.

"My family and I are going to the states to go skiing in New York. I have a few Muggle aunts and uncles out there." I vaguely understood what skiing was from my scarce Muggle-related conversations with Hermione.

We were silent for another minute before Delia hesitantly asked, looking as though she swallowed something foul, "Is Potter going to spend Christmas with you?"

I looked up at her at this, surprised. "Um, yeah – Ron's his best friend and all."

She nodded. "I'm sorry." She looked down, picking at her fingernails as I stared at her in even more surprise.

"What? What d'you mean? Why are you apologizing?" What the hell?

"Well, Dean wanted me to ask –"

"Dean?" I cut her off. "What about Dean?" I tried to keep my voice low as to not arouse suspicion. I glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening. No one was; they were all too enraptured in their potion making, not wanting to mess up for fear of what Snape might do to them.

"Dean wanted me to ask you if you and Harry… were like…," she paused, glancing around her. I leaned in closer. She finished quietly, "… a thing."

I opened my mouth, only to close it. I mean, what do I say to that? Dean. What a problem. I hadn't talked to him since our rendezvous into town, and I had barely spared him a thought. No, I was too caught up with Harry and my own life to think of his. He hadn't even come to the forefront of my mind until now. Come to think of it, maybe I should apologize to him. I did kind of leave abruptly in mid-date mode. For Harry.

I smiled guiltily to myself and at Delia. I whispered quietly, so only Delia could hear me. "Don't tell Dean anything. I'll tell him myself. I need to tell him something anyways."

Delia grinned at me. "So you are together?"

I added a few ingredients, glancing at the big potions textbook. I grinned and nodded as I pretended to read. I heard Delia laugh, but I looked at her and said, "But don't tell anyone. You're the first to know. No one besides us knows."

She smiled benevolently, "I promise I won't tell a soul."

---

After potions, my encounter with Dean came much too soon. I had barely gotten out of the dungeons when I saw him sitting on a bench, reading a book, his bag by his feet.

I took a deep breath, sighed, then regretfully made my way over to him. Apologies were difficult, and I hated giving them. But what goes around comes around; karma can be a bitch.

I quietly eased myself onto the bench about a foot away from him. "Hey, what're you reading?" He jumped and almost dropped his book. Thinking back to a few months ago, I remembered a similar experience. Except he wasn't reading a school book; he was reading a wizard comic book: _Dragonman_.

I almost rolled my eyes at the comic. It figures he wouldn't be reading an actual substantial book.

"What's up?" he asked after a few uncomposed moments.

I tightened my cheeks and pressed my lips together. I breathed in through my nose, and I began. "I'd just like to apologize for what happened a couple of months ago. It was rude to leave in the middle of our Hogsmeade trip," I paused to gather in his reaction. His face was blank. He was staring at me, but I couldn't read anything from his expression. "I'd like to tell you that I'm sorry and nothing that you did caused me to leave. It was another issue that I was dealing with at the time but is now resolved."

God, I sounded like I fucking practiced this. Which I didn't. Obviously. But I didn't want Dean to think that I cared about him enough to practice an apology to him! He already liked me enough (though maybe not much anymore after my treatment to him) without adding to the fact that I spent effort and time… oh, whatever. I needed to stop analyzing situations so much.

He smirked. "Oh, it's alright, Ginny. I'm way over that. I get it."

"Get what?" I just hate it when people act like they know something you don't know. I hate it when people smirk and say cryptic things like _I get it_. Because then I have to decode and pry it out of them.

His smirk grew wider. "You were mad at Potter."

I felt my face scrunch. I wasn't sure what I was feeling. Confusion, anger, annoyance, incredulity…

"So?" I bit out.

And he walked away, leaving his stupid smirk in place. Looking back, I wish I'd had the chance to smack that cheeky grin off of his face.

I was mad. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is to act like Mr. Supreme? All cocky, and grinning like a cheeky nymph. Like he knows a dirty little secret that others can't know, but he flaunts it.

Here I was, fishing out him an apology from the corners of my heart. And he acted like an arrogant Andy. I almost prefer Mr. Sadistic over Mr. Supreme. At least the former's honest. Sweet but weird my ass.

**A/N: _My friend's in New York on a ski trip. It's Thanksgiving break though. _**

**_This was more of a filler chapter. I had to get down to what happened with Dean, or else there would be some plot holes I'd rather avoid._**

**_Again, please review (every single review is loved and cherished... since I'm totally a review whore who basks shamefully in praise)._**

**_And thanks so much for all of the reviews and alerts and favorites! You guys are awesome!_**


	8. In Which the Cat's on the Table

**_The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley_**

**_Author: ValorOrgulloso_**

**_Rating: T_**

**_Chapter VIII: In Which the Cat's on the Table_**

I was terrified. My father had been attacked.

And Harry. He saw it. He saw it happen. My father was getting rescued now. I was getting transported to Grimmauld. I was terrified.

A snake. Voldemort's snake. It just didn't seem real. I flew out of the fireplace and onto the rug. Sirius caught me before I fell. He smiled grimly at me. I would have smiled at my pun (Sirius is a grim and he _grim_ly smiled… get it?) if I wasn't so distraught.

Sirius let me go, and I waited for my three brothers and Harry to tumble out. Harry was shaking and white, and would have fallen, but I caught him just like Sirius caught me.

"Well… just sit down, and I'll go fetch some butterbeers," said Sirius promptly if a bit awkwardly, as if he didn't know how to handle the situation.

Harry clung onto me, his back sweaty when I touched it. I rubbed it for a brief moment before letting go. He grimaced at me, and followed Sirius' instructions by sitting down on the large chair that was made for two.

I hesitated to follow him, knowing I wanted to comfort him and him to comfort me, but also acknowledging that if I sat with him it would raise some very obvious questions from Ron, Fred, and George, as well as Sirius.

I sighed. _To hell with it_. I quietly crawled up next to Harry, hoping my brothers were as upset as I, therefore making their observations minimal. Harry glanced at me, still shaking. He seemed surprised that I took initiative and sat so close to him. He glanced up at my brothers, and I followed his gaze. Ron and Fred were sprawled across a large couch, while George nervously fidgeted in an old armchair.

We both seemed to notice that none of them were paying us any attention. I leaned up against his side, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I squeezed one of my arms around his chest in a hug, hoping to soothe his shaking.

Sirius returned with the butterbeers, and he placed them down on the coffee table. He saw where Harry and I resided, and he seemed a little shocked. But he quickly got over it, and he sat in an armchair close by. I felt a shudder run through Harry, and I couldn't help but think of my dad.

It was going to be a long night.

---

I opened my eyes. My head was on Harry's chest, and, for a brief moment, I laid there listening to him breathe. I glanced at the old Roman numeral clock. It was half past four in the morning. I sighed. I sat up a bit, careful not to disturb the slumbering boy beneath me. Scanning the room, I saw Ron, Fred, and George all asleep. The butterbeers lay undisturbed on the table.

I looked to where I knew Sirius was, only to see him awake; his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands. And, as if he sensed my gaze, he looked sharply up at me.

"Hey," I mumbled, not thinking of anything else to say.

He sighed, and he leant back in the chair. He looked at Harry, whose face was pushed up against the side of the chair, his glasses crooked, his cheek squashed.

Sirius shook his head and looked down. "He's something else, isn't he?"

It took a moment for my mind to register the words. Then: "Yeah. He is." I sighed. Harry.

"He's had a hard life," Sirius explained, it seemed, mostly to himself. "He's had it hard."

I looked down into my lap, not knowing what to say. For lack of anything better to do, I fumbled with Harry's arm that was still wrapped around my shoulders. I slowly removed it, seeing as the position it was in was very awkward. He stirred a bit as I set his arm down, mumbled a small, "Ginny," and fell back into a peaceful sleep.

I looked back up at Harry's Godfather. He was staring at Harry and me with an odd expression on his face.

"What?" I asked.

He ran a hand through his tangled, graying locks. "Just… be good to him." He paused, and I stayed silent. "Harry… Harry didn't have the childhood you did. You had a family and possessions. His – it wasn't the worst. But he wasn't loved like you were. Even if this is just a fling, please, please, _please _be kind to him." Sirius went back to his previous position. Elbows on knees. Face in hands.

"I will," I whispered. And, in a slightly stronger voice, "I promise."

Then came a muffled, "Good," and the conversation was over.

---

The next morning came, and news came that my father would survive. We were all so happy. It was such a relief.

But with this relief came acknowledgement. From my brothers.

It started with Ron. I was lying in the drawing room, ecstatic that I knew everything would be okay – for the most part at least.

Ron walked in, all serious like, sat down dramatically at my feet, and said, "What was with last night, eh?" He seemed hesitant and a little bitter. I sat up, having already known that this was coming. I decided to take the safe ticket and play dumb.

"What was what?" I asked innocently. I played with a lock of my short red hair.

"You know what!" Ron sighed. "You and Harry!" I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't play dumb!" I played dumb. "You guys have been up to something for a long while – ever since your little lovers' spat in the middle of Hogsmeade! Don't act like I don't know. I've seen your looks, your _subtle_ brushes, the way you two disappear for hours, not to be seen until you both turn up looking worse for wear!"

I raised both eyebrows. I didn't know Ron was this smart and observant. Then I sighed regretfully in understanding. "Hermione?"

"I – what?" Ron stuttered. The question seemed to catch him off guard.

"Did Hermione point these things out to you?"

"What does it matter if she did?" Ron retorted, trying to maintain some dignity.

I smirked bitterly. Yes. She did. I knew we couldn't keep our relationship hidden forever, but I liked people not prying into my business. And, I'll admit, it was fun sneaking around, rushing into empty classrooms and snogging the brains out of that handsome fifth year boy…

"Yes, Ron. We're together," I confirmed, waiting for the inevitable Ron-is-mad saga to begin.

But it didn't. Ron just smirked a bit. "I knew it!"

It was my turn to be baffled. Is Ron… dare I say it… _happy?_

"You _knew _it?" I cried out incredulously.

"Yes! I've got to tell the twins! Oh, you're going to be teased so much." Then he left, snickering. _Snickering!_ That little booger!

Grumbling, I went off to find Harry to tell him that our secret was out.

---

Harry was in his room. Lying on his bed. Staring at the ceiling blankly. Emotionlessly. Not good.

I knocked on the door frame to let him know I was there. He barely spared me a glance. _Really_ not good.

I closed the door behind me as I walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it by Harry's stomach. I poked his side a little bit. "Hey, make some room."

Harry sighed and scooted over so I could lie beside him. When I was comfortable, I asked, "So what's up?"

I felt Harry move beside me in what I assumed was a shrug. Unresponsive.

Casually as I could, I mentioned, "Ron knows."

This got a response, if a small one, from Harry. "He knows? About us?"

I nodded even if he couldn't see it. "Uh-huh. And he's going to tell Fred and George. It's out."

He sighed. "Did you tell him?"

He sounded disappointed. I hoped not in me.

"No. He just sort of knew. I just confirmed it."

"Because of last night?" He sounded angry too. Again, I hoped not at me.

"No. He's known for a while. Hermione," I tried to explain.

"Mm," Harry murmured in understanding. "Was he mad?"

I smiled a little at the change in his voice. The anger and disappointment was disappearing. "Surprisingly, no. He just told me he was going to tell the twins who were going to tease us."

He groaned a little, but went silent afterwards. I sensed Harry going back into his I'm-depressed-so-I'm-gonna-be-grumpy state, so I sat up and pulled on his arm.

"Come on," I begged. "Follow me."

He glowered at me. I tugged on his arm again.

"Oh, stop it," I complained, "I don't like it when you're unhappy. So that's why I'm here to cheer you up." When I didn't get the response I wanted, which wasn't turning his face away from me and sighing, I turned back his head, and pulled the corners of his mouth up in a mock-smile.

He irritably swatted my hands away, but his mouth twitched. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I didn't come up here just so my boyfriend could glare at me and pity himself." Because that was exactly what he was doing; pitying himself.

All signs of mouth-twitching smiles vanished. Now he really _did_ glare at me. He sat up and threw his legs down on the opposite side of the bed.

"Yeah, well, when _Voldemort_ is breaking into your mind, tell me about pity," Harry snapped angrily. The change in his mood was sudden.

I was shocked; at his tone as well as his words. I was angry and hurt. How _dare_ he say that to me? First off, he's my boyfriend, and he shouldn't snap at me. Second off, I've been through worse.

"Well, _Harry Potter, savior_," I bit the word out as an insult, "of the Wizarding World. Let me tell you a bit about _Voldemort_ and _pity_." I lowered my voice close to a whisper. I spoke slow and steady as to make sure he heard me although his back was turned, and he was completely still. "When you have _Voldemort_ breaking into your mind and _controlling_ you, _then_ tell me about pity."

And I turned around and walked out of the room, feeling satisfied that I gave him a piece of my mind.

But it still hurt.

**A/N: Drama!!! I actually like this chapter (unlike my others). I thought I was rather dramatic and awesome. Am I spelling "Grimmauld" right? I hate it when authors spell names wrong, so tell me if it's wrong! Or if anything else is spelled incorrectly! **

**I don't like mad-jealous-vengeful Ron, because I personally believe it's just stupid and lame. So I made his reaction better :)**

**Review - every single one goes towards making me a happier person!**


	9. In Which Eating is Awkward

_**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**_

_**Author: ValorOrgulloso**_

_**Rating: T**_

_**Chapter IX: In Which Eating is Awkward**_

"Could you pass the salt, _Harry_?" I asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. This was the seventh time I'd made a sickeningly sweet or biting comment to Harry. During our exchanges he didn't say much, but he did sit there and look sullen.

The rest of my family and some of the Order were beyond confused; Ron, Fred, George, and Sirius especially, who thought we were together. Which, I suppose, we still were. We were just in a fight.

Everyone kept sending confused, wary glances in between Harry and me. Once during the meal, my mother seemed to open her mouth to ask what was going on, but apparently thought better of it and closed her mouth. Smart move.

"Oh, _thank_ you, Harry," I sang as I accepted the salt.

And, for the first time since the start of dinner, Harry said something. Through gritted teeth he replied, "_You're. Welcome. Ginny._"

I smiled mockingly at him and sprinkled a generous portion of salt on my potato.

I ate my food for another five minutes without anymore snipes between Harry and I. As I took a last sip of milk, I asked my mother, "May I be excused, please?"

She looked at me curiously. "Yes. Clean up your spot." I nodded once and stood up quickly and rinsed off my plate, placing it into the sink. Then, as fast as I could, I disappeared upstairs into an empty room that didn't have any decorations or furniature. No, it only had yellow wallpaper and an awesome view. It looked over London. The summer before I came up here to think when we visited here for a few days – mostly about what was to come.

Not many people knew about this room – the door blended into the wall, and I had only found it by chance. It was a good place when solitude was sought.

I sighed and slid down the wall across from the large window. I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my chin upon my knee.

Harry – yes, he had a hard life, but I did too. It wasn't the easiest thing ever to live with Tom Riddle in your head. And especially not afterwards. If only he understood the self-loathing that accompanied the Chamber. I felt myself choke up a bit when I started thinking of the Chamber. During my first year, although no one ever knew, I had been close to suicidal. Afterwards, feelings of death slowly resided from me, and I was able to think clearly. But, if people knew just how close I was to death when I was eleven and not just at the hands of that monster…

I sighed, thinking of my new persona. Last summer was when I wanted to really let loose and just tried my hardest to be funny and live my life and be a goofball. And I met all of those goals.

And then I made a goal to get Harry to notice me. And he did. And the past few months had been some of my happiest since the Chamber.

But I was hurt. I was hurt that Harry thought I wouldn't be able to understand. Because, although I might not be able to relate to his parents' deaths, his childhood… I could relate to his nightmares. I sighed, thinking back to what Sirius had said under twenty-four hours ago. _Be kind to him_.

Well, I was trying. But he was so bloody ridiculous sometimes!

Eventually I fell asleep on that hard ground and against that hard wall as the lights of the city illuminated the room.

But I was woken up. "_Ginny,_" my name was whispered. I opened my eyes. It was still dark outside.

"_Harry_," I breathed. He sat beside me cautiously, and in silence we looked out at the city's lights.

I broke the silence. "How did you find this room?"

"Sirius told me it was here."

It was a long while before he said anything else. When he did, though, I don't recall him ever sounding more sincere. "Ginny," he started. "Ginny, I know you're mad at me. I know you think I'm a prat. I am a prat. A big one."

I snorted lightly. "Not as big as you think," I disagreed. I looked at him and grinned. He smiled shyly back before averting his gaze.

"I didn't mean to say that, you know. I didn't think," he explained. "I know you probably could understand me more than anyone else. I know. I realize that now."

He paused, and opened his mouth again when I didn't say anything. But he was already forgiven. So I cut him off by kissing him lightly.

I pulled away, and he seemed to be in shock. Then a grin grew on his face. I leaned against him, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"So what'd you get me for Christmas?" I asked, hopeful.

He laughed. "You'll find out."

"Aw…," I pouted. "Please?"

"No. You're just going to have to find out with everyone else," Harry ordered.

I sighed loudly and said dramatically, "Fine." Harry giggled beside me. Giggled? Well, that was new. Harry never giggled.

"You know, as much as I hate to break up our little romantic excursion in this hidden room, we really need to go to bed soon. What time is it?"

"Erm…" Harry checked his watch. "One o'clock."

So, sadly, we left the room, but I felt much happier than I had in a while.

---

The next morning, breakfast was a much more pleasant affair. Harry and I sat next to each other, and there was no sniping. Everyone seemed relieved in the change in atmosphere.

And now Fred and George wouldn't shut up.

"So, what was with before?" Fred asked.

"Did you guys have a lovers' tiff?" George added.

"Are you guys going to be all gross in front of us now?" Fred made a childish look of disgust.

"Yeah, kissing and touching and hugging and drooling?"

I kicked George in the shin, glaring at him over my eggs. "Hey!" he exclaimed.

Beside me, Harry's red face seemed to radiate heat. "Stop it!" I ordered, looking at Fred and George in anger.

They knew not to push me much more, so they ashamedly hid their faces. I knew they were kidding, but I couldn't help but be irritated.

My mum was bustling around the kitchen in excitement. And, although she hadn't said anything to me since my relationship with Harry went kind-of-public, I could tell she was ecstatic. She kept sending me suggestive looks that I carefully avoided – I mean, ew, my mum shouldn't be making those faces in the first place!

Even Harry was acting different! Whenever Sirius looked at him, he became quieter than usual and blushed whenever I looked at him. I huffed. He never blushed just for the heck of it before!

The only one acting normal was, surprisingly, Ron. During that awkward hour, I felt thankful my youngest brother was there. He would sit there and shovel mouthfuls of food into his mouth, as usual, and I was glad for the reliable consistency of Ron.

Thankfully, the uncomfortable breakfast was over when my mother announced, "We're going to visit your father in the hospital at eleven, so go upstairs to get ready."

Relieved, I rushed out of the kitchen at top speed.

***This is a repost because I forgot to look over it, and there were like a million mistakes.**

**A/N: Aren't you proud of me? Three chapters in the span of 2 days! I actually like writing this story, unlike my others. I wrote this chapter rocking out hard to Taylor Swift's "I'm Only Me When I'm With You". And yesterday I bought a pink pea coat from the GAP and brown moccasins from Payless. They're so pretty! So review! And read my short story **_**Sanitarium **_**(it isn't a fan fiction, but I put it in Misc. Books). I wrote it for school, and now my teacher probably thinks I'm mentally disturbed, because all I write about for school is death and crazy people.**

**Thanks and leave a little comment!**


	10. In Which Ginny Thinks of an Idea

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Rating: T**

**_Chapter X: In Which Ginny Thinks of an Idea_**

"So what've you been up to?" Hermione asked as I helped her heave her trunk up the stairs and into our room at Grimmauld.

"Oh, not much," I said. "The usual."

I was kind of hoping someone else would tell Hermione about Harry and I. I wasn't a fan of breaking the news for a few reasons. 1) I'm lazy, and I don't like to explain anything, and 2) It was a little awkward. I mean, I'm not a very touchy-feely, pour-your-heart-out kind of person, and anyone could probably tell by glancing at me. I wasn't a tomboy or anything, but I didn't flaunt my femininity.

I was generally quiet unless I had to say something, or I was completely comfortable around the person. Which is to say, I'm not completely comfortably around many. Not even my family and friends at times. For right now, the only person I would place in the completely-comfortable-with category is Harry.

Don't get me wrong; I love my family, but I'm not one of those people that would say "I love you" before I part ways with a family member. It's just understood that I love them. I show it through actions.

Which brings me back to why it would be awkward to tell Hermione about dating Harry.

She would bowl questions my way left and right. "How do you feel about him?", "Are you sure you're ready?", "How long have you liked him?", "Do you love him?", "Have you kissed?", "How far have you gotten?", "Don't be irresponsible, now! Use protection!"

None of these things I really wanted to talk about with Hermione. Like I said, I only have one person I'm completely comfortable around. And that's only because I have my tongue down his throat every few days.

I don't want to discuss my feelings or my private excursions with Harry to Hermione. I don't want to talk about anything emotional at all at the moment. Especially not love.

"The usual?" wheezed Hermione, as we set down the heavy trunk. She wiped her brow of sweat. I wasn't sweating, but I guess that's what you get when you don't sit in a library all day. "And what would that be?"

"You know… cleaning this place up, doing homework, hanging out with Harry…" I thought that even though I didn't want to mention my dating status with Hermione, I could ease her into the subject so that I wasn't bombarded with a million questions.

"Oh." Hermione sat on the bed and started, "There's something I need to ask you."

I almost sighed. Bring on the hurricane.

"I got a letter from Ron yesterday." She paused, and I paused my breath. Great, he's probably told her. "He told me to ask you…"

I scrunched my eyebrows down. Thanks, Ron, don't tell her that I'm dating her best friend. Make it harder for me.

"I mean, I've noticed some things for a while between you two, but it was very subtle, so I wasn't sure until the letter came, but I'm still not too sure if what I saw was real, and I didn't want to infer anything incorrectly, because being wrong is not an option in a situation such as thi–"

"Oh, out with it, woman!" I urged.

Hermione seemed to compose herself a little before finally saying, "Are you and Harry dating?"

I looked at her a moment. Then: "Yes."

A grin started to form on her face. She squeeled – oh, heavens help me, Hermione squeeled – and jumped onto my bed next to me, enveloping me in a hug. She pulled back and held me at arms length. I stared at her in shock. Hermione, dare I say it, was acting like a girl. "Oh, really? This is so great! I'm so happy for you two! I knew it! Oh, I'm so glad I knew it!"

Then she squashed me back against her breast and held me there until I muttered uncomfortably, "Um, can you let go now? I can't breathe."

"Oh!" Hermione hastily withdrew her embrace, and I leaned back, catching my breath. "I'm so happy for you!" she repeated.

"Erm, thanks." I rubbed my back, and checked for bruises – let me tell you, that girl can _hug_.

"How long? When did you get together, I mean? Was it over break or before? How long before? Did you know you liked him long? How long has he liked you? Oh, I wish I had noticed sooner!" After she finished, she looked at me expectantly, as if for an answer to her ridiculous stream of questions.

This was why I didn't want to talk to Hermione. She asked too many questions involving this relationship. Why couldn't Harry have been victimized instead?

"Um… we've been together for…" I tried to calculate the amount. I wasn't one of those people that remembered dates – even if they were for relationships. "I dunno, since a little after the first Hogsmeade trip?"

"You don't even know the day?" Hermione asked as if I was being absolutely ridiculous. She gave me a look that clearly said Don't-You-Care? You-Won't-Even-Know-Your-Anniversary! "Don't you care? You won't even know your anniversary!"

Yup. Spot on.

"It's not a big deal. We're not those types of people. We don't celebrate," I tried to amend.

But I guess I was just making things worse, since Hermione screeched, "_You're not those types of people?_" That was in my ear. Thanks, love.

"No," I answered, although her question was rhetorical. And, before she could open her mouth again, I said quickly, "There are bigger things going on than remembering a stupid date. We don't need to celebrate a two month anniversary or anything to know that we like each other."

Hermione looked at me in disapproval, but said, "Okay. Whatever you want." She was too organized. Of course Hermione wouldn't forget the date she got together with someone. But I also expected she enjoyed the symbolism of it, too.

"Thanks," I said. I was appreciative of her acceptance to drop it, even if it was regretfully.

I could tell she was about to go on another rampage of questions when there was a knock coming from the open doorway.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, rushing to meet him. She hugged him, and, when his head was over her shoulder and he could see my face properly, I rolled my eyes at her back, mouthing, "Mental."

Harry smiled broadly at me, and pulled back from Hermione. "What've you been doing all break?" Harry asked, turning the topic to Hermione. I almost hit myself. That would've been the smart thing to do when Hermione was going all apeshit up my ass; change the effing subject.

As Hermione went on a rant, I led the two of them out of my room and downstairs. We went into the living area and sat down on the couches.

Pretty soon, Ron, Fred, and George joined us. Ron invited Harry to play chess, which he accepted happily. And, sure enough, Harry and I were getting teased again. At first, I tried to ignore it and focus on the game Harry and Ron were playing. But it got so bad that I couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Move that pawn there, Harry dearest," Fred said.

"No! Move the knight! He's so muscular, powerful, and handsome!" George shouted, dramatically swooning.

"Kind of like our dearest Harrykins here, huh, Gin?" Fred asked, patting Harry on the shoulder.

By that point, Harry's ears were a bright red, and he was sitting erectly and stiff, unmoving. I wasn't much better.

They were about to make another smart ass comment when I got up and left the room, going into the secret room upstairs.

I sat down on the little cushion corner Harry and I had created over the past few days. This was the place we would escape to when people kept on trying to interrupt us, never sparing us a moment alone. It was frustrating, so we finally decided to just stay up here a majority of the time. We added cushions and such to make it more comfortable.

As I was sitting down, Harry entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

He sat down next to me, turning his body to face me. He sighed.

I looked at him. "They are _so_ annoying!" I complained leaning against the wall in frustration.

Harry nodded in agreement. "It's rather embarrassing."

"And you shouldn't be embarrassed! I shouldn't be, either! You should be able to be my boyfriend without those two torturing us."

He wrapped his arm around me as I vented and kissed the top of my head. My mind raced as I thought of how those two teased us every chance they got. Slowly, my mouth began to curve into a smirk. I pulled back from Harry, looking at him with, I suspect, an evil gleam in my eye.

He raised an eyebrow at my expression. "What is it?" he asked, clearly wondering what I was up to.

"I've got an idea."

**A/N: You know how in the first chapter there was a little note at the top rambling on about how there was no Order? Yeah, well, I lied. There is one, but I don't think I'm going to make it become a major role in the story, because I think writing about overly-cliché things are boring (well, I'm hoping my story isn't overly cliché. It probably is, but the "Order" cliché drives me bonkers. So I'm not having it). And I might rewrite the first chapter. I think it's stupid. Or maybe I'll wait until I finish the story and rewrite parts that I don't like.**

**And, as for what I was listening to as I wrote this: "Swing" –Savage, "Love Lockdown" –Kanye West, "Eighty Eights" –Farewell, and the Moulin Rouge soundtrack.**

**Not sure if what I'm listening reflects into my writing, but maybe.**

**I can only update on weekends, and if I ever update on a different day, don't congratulate me. I should probably have been doing homework, 'cause I have awful grades right now…. My history teacher thinks I have depression or something, because I don't smile enough, and my grades are horrible. He's like, "I was surprised with your grade," heh, D+, and, "Are you alright?" and "I'm concerned about you," and, "Smile more…. *smiles*… a sincere smile." So I basically have a C in AP US, and my teacher thinks something's wrong with me. But it was so mean, because when he said he was surprised with my grade (D+), a girl next to me asked him if he was surprised with hers (D), he was like, "Not as much."**

**There are 2 girls on my swim team that look exactly like a rhino and a wolf. It's the funniest thing ever. (I'm not exactly the nicest person if you haven't figured that out yet)**

**So I hate writing long author notes (and this one is REALLY long), but it seems I've been inclined to write longer ones lately, cause I have a lot of pointless things to share. Thanks for everyone's support of my story, and I hope you review and keep reading!**


	11. In Which Several Fight

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter XI: In Which Several Fight**

"I HATE YOU!" I screamed.

"Yeah? Well, I hate you, too!" shouted Harry.

"I can't believe you'd do that to me! You're _so_ uncaring!"

"_Oh_," Harry rolled his eyes mockingly, "and you aren't?"

"No! I'm not! You're a – a – a jerk!"

"Oh, wow, I'm _so_ hurt! A jerk? Is that the best you can come up with? What about you? You're not so innocent!"

I screamed in frustration and stormed out of the room yelling at the top of my lungs, "DON'T TALK TO ME!"

"LIKE I'D WANT TO!"

"IT'S OVER!"

"GOOD!"

I stormed up to my room, slamming the door behind me. I heard Harry do the same down the hall.

I smiled triumphantly. The plan was in action. I didn't even know what Harry and I were supposed to be fighting about, but the idea was to break up and confuse the twins. We were then supposed to make them take different sides – Fred with me, and George with Harry. We'd then get them mad at each other to the point that we'd make up, and they'd still be angry at one another.

We timed the fight so only Fred and George could hear it, since they were in the room next door. Everyone else was a few floors below, in the kitchen or the parlor.

The twins would get over it and move on, but I couldn't help but wonder if it was going to work. There were only a two days left of break, and Harry and I didn't especially want to act mad at each other too long, so we decided to fight today.

And so it began.

---

I heard the rap on the door and called, "Who is it?"

"Me."

It was Fred. Down the hall, I heard a door open, and I could only assume it was Harry letting George in.

I did my best to look sullen as I pushed my face into my pillows. "What do _you_ want?"

I felt my bed sink in and I slid a little. Fred patted my leg as he ignored my question and said, "What's up with you guys?" He stopped for a moment, but continued quickly. "I mean, I know you guys are mad, but this is extreme. It's no fun making fun of you when you're depressed."

My snappy answer flew back muffled. "Good to know."

He ignored me and said, "What are you even fighting over?"

This was my opportunity. Confuse him enough to make him upset, but not enough for him to get suspicious.

I sat up and turned away from him. I pretended to wipe at my eyes as though there were tears. I started, in my best I'm-sad-and-lonely voice, "It's nothing really. He j-just doesn't feel as though i-it's there. He took it away from me – a – and I can never get it back." I fell into a fit of fake sobs, but, and I am proud to admit, I did produce a few droplets. I threw my arms around Fred's neck and heaved out loud moans into his chest.

"I-I'm j-just so-o hurt!" I wailed. "I'm s-so hurt ev-everywhere!"

"What did he do to you?" His voice was sharp and demanding; not like Fred's usual composition. "Tell me! I'm gonna kill him–"

"NO!" I shrieked urgently – I couldn't let Fred throttle Harry. He needed to throttle George! "No," I managed to say quieter, "just let him be. It's okay."

He gave me a look before storming out of the room. I chased after him, wondering what he was going to do – if anything. Oh, but he was. Fred disappeared as he walked through Harry's door, and I quickly followed. _Oh, God, don't kill Harry!_

But there was no need to fret just yet. George was there, looking almost as angry as Fred. He saw me, and his face seemed to turn redder than it already was.

"_Ginny!_" George shouted at the same time Fred yelled, "_Potter!_"

I looked at Harry to see him looking sheepish. He saw me looking and ashamedly looked at his feet. I copied his movement but kept sneaking glances at Fred and George. They were in a rather heated argument.

"…you're lying! Ginny could never do that!" Fred defended.

"You don't know her that well! She was cheating! Harry doesn't deserve that!" George argued.

I looked at Harry, and he flashed me a quick smile, before resuming his old position.

"Yeah?" Fred shouted. "I bet he just told you that since he deflowered Ginny and broke up with her! Stupid _git!_"

"Oh, stop it! You're spewing nonsense, and you know it! For being such a _genius_, you sure can be dumb, Fred!"

I looked at Harry, and I could tell he too knew that this would get violent pretty soon. Which, quite frankly, I was alright with since Fred and George tormented me so much.

It was Fred that flew the first fist. He missed, but George retaliated anyways.

And so the fight began. Hands were flying, and pretty soon Fred and George were rolling on the floor, pulling at each other's ginger hair and hitting whatever they could.

Apparently their little brawl was heard, since Ron and Hermione rushed into the room. I moved to stand by Harry with a satisfied look on my face. His expression mirrored mine, and I smiled in pride. _Ah, revenge is sweet_. And I barely did anything!

It was when my mother and Sirius entered the room that the fighting stopped. And that was only because Sirius bodily pulled the twins off of each other with Ron's help. Harry and I stood back and watched as the scene unfolded. Hermione and Mum looked upset and a bit angry on the latter's part.

Harry wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I watched as my mother stormed up to them shouting things I was glad weren't aimed at me.

The twins kept trying to interrupt; still occasionally sending glares at each other, but mum wouldn't let them. In the end, my mother, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione left the room. Fred and George were certainly worse for wear, though. George had a long cut on his left cheek, while Fred was forming a large black eye. Their clothes were frazzled, and their hair was sticking up at odd angles.

They were a mess, and I couldn't help but be happy. The plan didn't go exactly the way I wanted it to, but the twins certainly had paid.

They caught sight us, smirking with our arms wrapped around each other. I laughed loudly at their expressions of shock, and Harry and I made our way past them before more than a "But… hey…" could come out of their mouths.

"Toodles, boys," I murmured snottily as we left.

I rushed up the stairs (out of the many in this house), still giggling occasionally. Harry followed, laughing. Just as I was almost to the top of the second flight of stairs, Harry tugged me back by the arm. He pushed me against the wall. His chest was pressed up against mine, and I started breathing rapidly. Was it just me, or was it suddenly a little too hot in here for winter?

"I _deflowered _you?" Harry whispered playfully; his nose inches from mine; his green eyes staring defiantly into mine.

I let my smirk return, and I stared just as hard back. "Only because it was the only thing I could come up with."

He pushed up against me harder, pressing me more firmly against the wall. My breath caught, my smirk disappeared for good, and his hand trailed up my back to grip the back of my neck. I felt shivers run down my spine.

I was in shock. He was normally never this forward, but I couldn't help but feel entranced and a bit excited.

"Or is it because it's something you want?" His lips were less than a breath away. His lips brushed mine as he spoke. But he never made full contact. I could smell his breath, and I could feel every bone he pressed against me.

"_Harry_," I whispered for lack of anything else to say. I couldn't think of any smart retort; my brain was too foggy.

"_Yes?_" he whispered back.

"_Okay._"

He smiled wickedly, and a decision was made.

**A/N: "Oh, shit, shake that ass, ma. Move it like gypsy."**

**Or just, ya know, review.**


	12. In Which She Feels Hopeless

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter XII: In Which She Feels Hopeless**

We'd done it. I couldn't believe it. I stared out the window at the rain, a slushy February turning into March, and comprehension escaped me. The books around me were silent and full of knowledge, but they didn't offer any help.

The library, homework, my lessons; they couldn't help me now.

I felt alone – which went against what all the romance novels said that surrounded me.

I wasn't supposed to feel this way. I was supposed to be happy. I was supposed to feel fulfilled, loved forever. But I didn't. All I felt was scared.

I felt lost. Numb. Strange. I can't really explain it, but I felt like an outsider looking in – nothing seemed real.

What did feel real was the searing pain, though. I walked to the library to do "homework", but I knew that wasn't the case. Harry knew that wasn't the case. But he didn't stop me. He didn't say a word against it. I had sat down at the table closest to the windows and winced.

God, it had hurt. The pain I was having now was just a reminder of how much it hurt when it had actually happened. The pain was fading now, but I would never forget it.

It was hard to face him. Harry. It was difficult. It was awkward. I didn't know what to say. I was clumsy and self-conscious. He was very much the same way.

He stuttered all the time around me and spilled his drink if he had one in hand. We didn't talk much. And if we did, we didn't mention our activities of the past week.

And so I found solace in the library. It gave us a break from the tension between us. It broke my heart to see how far removed from each other we had become. Stale and hard took the place of goofy and tender.

We weren't prepared, that was for sure. We were awkward before the deed, during the deed, and after the deed. It had hurt, and it hurt Harry to see me hurt. I couldn't help but let out that tiny whimper when it had entered, and I felt awful once I saw what that small sound had done to Harry.

But I insisted that we plunge on; no pun intended. And I wished we hadn't. I regretted it. So much. We weren't ready. I didn't know how to act around him anymore.

I still cared for him.

---

I sighed as I saw Harry across the common room. He was asleep. It was late, and we were one of the few Gryffindors still in the common room. I knew Harry and I had to talk about it. I couldn't stand the tension. It had been two and a half weeks, and Ron and Hermione were beyond suspicious. They kept asking us what was wrong, and we would just shrug it off. I saw them corner Harry a couple of times, but he casually insisted nothing was wrong and continued on his way.

I walked across the room to where Harry was asleep in an armchair. His glasses were askew, and he had a book open on his chest. His head was thrown back, and his mouth was open.

I shook him gently. We didn't say anything as he woke up. He opened his eyes, and he saw me. I could see his mouth moving around words that couldn't come out. I slowly raised a finger to his lips, shushing him. I removed the book from his chest and transferred it to a local table.

I felt his eyes follow me as I did this, and I couldn't help but feel the now familiar pang of self-consciousness. He had seen me naked, after all, and I him.

There were no chairs near, and I stubbornly squeezed in next to him on the chair, determined not to let our newfound awkwardness affect my actions.

I felt Harry stiffen as I pushed him over to make room. It was a tight fit, but with both of us small, it wasn't too bad.

I felt Harry slowly slip his hand into mine; hesitant. I looked up at his face. I could tell he was trying not to look away from my gaze.

I squeezed his hand, took a deep breath, and exhaled. "Harry, I…" I broke off.

Even after nineteen days (Hermione should be proud; I remembered the day I had sex – February fourteenth – Valentines Day) after, I was unsure of what to say. I wanted to make things better between us, but it was hard to get the right words out.

I was quiet for a while, and I let Harry mull over things a bit before waiting for him to speak.

"I," Harry said so quietly I could barely hear him. "I care a lot about you, Ginny. A whole lot. More than I ever thought I could about a girl. I care what you think about me. You're smart, you're funny, you're sensitive, you're silly, you're _beautiful_…" Harry breathed out the last word, and I held my breath. I could tell it was taking a lot for Harry to open up like this, and I didn't want to spoil the moment by moving too fast or talking.

"When you agreed," Harry stopped, and I could detect tears in his voice as it cracked. I was going to say something, but Harry quickly continued. "When you agreed to be my girlfriend, I was so happy. I was happy someone cared. And then we were good together. I thought we were really good together. And I still do!" Harry quickly insisted.

"When we… when we were together like… like that, Ginny, I was so nervous," Harry admitted quietly. "I didn't know what I was doing, but… but I thought that if we were together, then it would be something final. Like you couldn't be taken away from me. Like we would be together and happy for a – a v – very long time." Harry was having trouble holding back tears now. He was looking up and away from me at the wallpaper on the wall. He was blinking rapidly and trying not to sniff too much.

I was quiet as I stared at his sad, forlorn face as he broke down inside and out, and it was hurting me.

"And – and I don't know w – what I –I'd do i –if you – if you b – broke up w – with m – me. B – but I'd under – understand if you d – do." As Harry finished his speech, he tried to not let the tears out, but one escaped and trickled down his cheek. He angrily wiped at it, and looked away from me. Like he was ashamed.

"Oh, Harry," I murmured, releasing his hand. I placed my hands on either side of his face and turned his head to look at me. I wiped a few more tears away with my thumbs as I tried to get his eyes to look at me and not at whatever lay behind.

It seemed useless, so I just started talking. "Harry, I was nervous, too," I admitted quietly, my voice barely more than a gentle buzz. "I was so nervous of what you'd say, of what you'd think. And I wanted to do it so I could be with you. And we did do it. And now we're at odds with each other. And it's all because we weren't ready. But that's no reason to break up. I don't think I _could_ break up."

I stopped talking and looked down into my lap. I dropped my hands. "I think you're gentle and sweet and kind and caring and brave and smart and thoughtful and glorious and perfect in e – every way…"

I stopped speaking and swallowed the lump in my throat.

"_I love you!_" is what I heard. I looked up in surprise to see Harry with his mouth open. He had said it. Just blurted it out. It hung out in the open, and I finally felt my own tears come to terms with me. He looked shocked he had just said it, too. His face had turned from blotchy red to pale white.

And, not caring it there were three or thirty people in the common room, I buried my face into Harry's sweater and sobbed.

A few seconds after, I felt Harry's arms slip around me. Pretty soon, it became clear that he too was crying all over me, judging by the wet drips streaking down my neck and the shaking coming from his shoulders.

"I – I – love –love you, t- too!" I wailed.

Then I heard a sob-laugh in my left ear.

And so we lay there in a gooey mess of snot and tears, confused beyond belief, but happy.

**A/N: Angst with me, BABY! **


	13. In Which Being Caught Results in

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter XIII: In Which Being Caught Results in Detention**

My mood had improved drastically. Harry and I were on good terms once more, and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my chest. Even Delia had noticed, which says something since she never seemed to be the kind of person to notice emotions. I suppose I was really depressed though.

But not anymore!

Harry was walking me to classes again. When he stopped doing that before, it was pretty tragic for me. I mean, even if I never let him carry my books I expected him to be by my side as we walked together from Transfiguration and History to Charms and Divination. When he didn't show up that first day – for which I was thankful actually; I didn't want to deal with him at the time – it was pretty depressing to know that we had a split between us.

But all was fixed! And my brother and Hermione seemed relieved. At least they did right now. At dinner. Eating. Although that could be because Ron is always content when there's something in his mouth, and Hermione was busy watching him with disgust.

Harry was sitting next to me, and he occasionally would pat my leg and smile at me shyly. It was cute, but sometimes I couldn't understand why Harry could be reserved around me. With what we've been through I'd assume he'd be open and talkative with me more. Then again, I guess he was, I considered. He was just shier in the eyes of others. When we're alone he can be quite the little chatter box. It's normally when we're around other people that he goes all quiet.

"Whu' duh oo uyth shfi'?"

"Swallow, Ron," Hermione reprimanded, and Ron struggled to swallow the large mouthful of ham.

"Why did you guys fight?" Ron finally asked properly.

Harry and I exchanged looks. "Er…" Harry started. It'd be a little awkward to explain the situation to anyone; Ron especially.

"We weren't in a fight," I argued. And we weren't; just extremely uncomfortable around each other.

Now I saw Hermione and Ron look at each other before turning back to us.

"Well, something was going on," said Hermione. "You two didn't just start ignoring each other cold turkey. You guys were nearly inseparable, broke apart, and now you're back to being attached at the hip."

"Yeah," Ron supported, "You stopped being disgusting. And, while I thought this was a good thing, it made both of you mope around for days, and it was starting to make _me_ depressed."

Knowing it would be a bad idea to delve any farther into this conversation I tried to end it with, "It's none of your business!" This, apparently, was a bad idea since Ron started showing his tell-tale signs of "I'm starting to get angry."

"Of course it's my business! You're my sister, and that's my best mate!"

"No, it isn't!" I snapped. "It's not your business just like what you do isn't my business! If I wanted to tell you I would!"

Ron glared at me and then trained his gaze on Harry. "You'll tell me later, right, mate?"

I felt and saw Harry shift uncomfortably and sit up stiffly. "Well… um, no… it really isn't something we want to share at the present."

Ron glared at him too. He huffily stood up without another bite and muttered loud enough to hear, "Some friend you are…" and he left the hall.

Hermione looked at us, and I looked at Harry. His face was red with what seemed embarrassment, and he had a strange expression on his face.

"It's okay, Har –" I started, but I was cut off as Harry trudged out of the Great Hall without another word to anyone. I could tell he was going into one of his moods, and I looked apologetically at Hermione. I didn't want to leave her here, but I knew things would turn out worse if I didn't get to Harry.

She sighed and stabbed at a potato, "Go on, then."

I took one long glance at her before making a decision, and I hurried out of the hall just in time to see Harry's heel pass the doors leading outside. It was chilly out there, but I chased after Harry anyways. "The things I do for you…" I muttered.

It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and, in that time, I had lost sight of Harry. I carefully wandered down the steps and onto the grounds. I could hear the gentle buzz of dinner behind me.

I shivered then I heard a sigh. My head whipped right and I saw Harry lying on the half-frozen ground looking up at the sky. I slowly approached him.

"Harry, what's the matter?" I asked in some exasperation.

He just sighed again, and I lay down next to him, knowing if I was persistent enough he would give me an answer of some sort.

We lay there gazing up at the stars so long my teeth began to chatter. Harry heard me, and he wrapped an arm around me in a futile effort to keep me warm. He was wearing a heavy sweater so he was warm, but I was only in my crisp, cotton school shirt.

"Are you mad at Ron?" I asked at last when it became clear he didn't plan on answering my question anytime soon.

"No," Harry said. "I'm mad at myself."

I turned my head sharply to look at him. I heard my neck snap, but I ignored the pain. "What? Why?"

His face was carefully blank as he responded. "I… I took advantage of you."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Are you still talking about tha –"

"Yes I'm still talking about that!" Harry snapped at me. At last, some emotion. His face showed signs of true anger. "I just can't forget about it! It was a big deal!"

"But we could! We could just start over anew–"

Harry cut me off again. "How can you think that? It happened, we did it, and it's done."

"Actually, it's _finished_," I corrected in an effort to lighten up the mood. It didn't prove very successful.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm the one that asked! I'm the one that convinced you! It's my fault!" Harry moaned. He removed his arm from my shoulders, sat up and covered his face with his hands, elbows propped up on knees.

I quickly sat up too, trying to soothe him. "No, that's _not_ how it happened. I wanted to do it. You asked, but I agreed – eagerly as I recall." I tried to keep him from sinking into his oh-so-common depression. When he didn't say anything I tried to amend things by saying, "It'll be better next time."

I made things worse.

"Next time? _Next time!_" Harry cried. He removed his hands from his eyes and stared at me incredulously. "There will be no next time! I hurt you! I'm awful…" And he covered his eyes again.

He couldn't really believe that! And if I had anything to say about it there _would_ be a next time. Maybe not anytime soon, but eventually.

I slowly wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He tried to pull away, but I yanked him back towards me, not letting him run off.

I felt him struggle, and desperate, I nearly yelled, "_Harry!_"

I briefly felt his struggle stop, and I took the chance to intervene with my own thoughts. "Harry, stop being ridiculous. It's not you're fault! You weren't acting like this earlier! What happened that triggered… this?"

This time Harry pulled himself harshly away from me, and I had no choice but to release him. I took a deep breath, not letting my impatience with his attitude overtake me.

"Why are you acting like this?" I asked quietly, subdued a bit.

"Because…" Harry ran a hand harshly through his hand, staring at the ground, frustrated. He stopped talking, and I myself became frustrated.

"Because_ what?_" I asked. His gaze snapped back to me quickly, and it was so strong that I almost looked away.

"_Because I fucked my best friend's sister!_" Harry shouted.

I was stunned into submission. Harry never swore. _Ever_. It was normally me. And, as such, it took a moment for me to compose myself. When I finally found my voice it was harsh. "_Yes_, Harry, you did! You did it with me! And I _fucked_ my brother's best friend! It happened, we did it, and it's done," I mimicked, copying his words from before.

He looked away, and I did too. I hated fighting with Harry. It always left a salty, bitter taste in my mouth. It felt physically draining, and it was always such a relief when we made up.

I heard Harry mumble something incomprehensible.

I looked at him. "What was that?"

"I said I'm sorry." I stared at Harry, and I took in the whole of him. He was sitting forlornly on the grass, looking regretful in every sense of the word. His eyes were dull (from what I could see of them – it was rather dark, and we only had the glow of the castle to cover us), his mouth was turned down slightly, and lines seemed to crease his face beyond his years. He was fifteen, but he looked about fifty at the moment.

"This isn't the only thing bothering you, is it?"

Harry was still another minute until he looked up at me. "No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He looked away around at the grounds – towards the lake. He sighed, "I dunno…"

I reached over and gently took his hand. "You can tell me anything, you know… I won't judge you."

"I know." And he squeezed my hand in his. "I just…," he started. He seemed to choke on the words, and he tried again. "I keep having these… dreams. At least, they seem like dreams… but they're not."

He paused again, and I was quiet, wanting him to open up to me. "I'm in a corridor… and there's a door… and I want to open it… but when I get close enough… I wake up."

He stopped talking, and I could tell he was finished. "Do you know where this corridor is?" I asked.

He hesitated before nodding. "It's the hallway in the Ministry I had to go down for my hearing."

"D'you… do you know _why_ you keep dreaming about this corridor?"

Harry shook his head, and I could tell it really bothered him. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, removing my hand from his.

"You're so cold!" he yelped when he touched my body when I hugged him.

I laughed gently. Yes, I was cold, and he always figured out when I was. During our conversation I must have forgotten it was like zero degrees Celsius.

"Here…" Harry said, pulling back from our embrace. I shivered. Now I was _really_ cold. Harry hopped up, and he reached down, pulling off his sweater.

"You don't have to do that!" I yelped, standing as well.

Harry didn't speak as he shoved the sweater over my head and onto my body. It was baggy on me, but almost immediately I stopped shaking. "Thanks…" I said gratefully, but I saw that Harry was now in a short sleeve shirt and probably colder than I was before.

I hugged him tightly, hoping I was doing a good job at keeping him from shivering.

"You know… this is where we first kissed," Harry muttered in my ear. It sent shivers down my spine, and it definitely wasn't from the cold since I was in Harry's sweater.

"Yeah…," I said, thinking back on the happy incident. I looked up at Harry, and he smiled at me. "Where it all began…" I snorted at how cheesy I sounded. Harry noticed and giggled too.

As far as I know, I was the only one to ever hear him giggle like that. I was proud of myself for being able to bring it out of him.

I cut off his giggle by pushing my lips against his. He responded quickly, moving his lips with mine. My mouth opened as he gently prodded his tongue into my mouth. My body was on fire as his hands slid up and down my sides, and I quickly remembered why exactly I was so easily succumbed into having sex with Harry. He was irresistible.

His lips released mine with a small sound, and I nearly moaned at the loss.

"Let's go inside," Harry suggested, completely out of breath, holding onto me just as tightly as I was to him.

"Okay," I agreed, equally breathless.

Harry released me from the hug but kept one arm around my shoulders, holding me tightly to his side. I helped by keeping my arm wrapped around his waist. We walked through the entrance doors to discover dinner was finished. There wasn't a student wandering about anywhere. Harry glanced at his watch to discover it was already half past nine. It was a little past curfew, so we slowly made our way back to the tower, hoping we weren't caught by anyone.

No such luck.

"Miss Weasley! Mr. Potter!" McGonagall barked from behind. I cringed. _Lovely_.

"What are you doing out past curfew?"

"Um… walking?" Harry tried. What a dear; being brave and speaking up.

"Detention for both of you tomorrow night!" McGonagall ordered, obviously finding Harry's excuse inexcusable. "See me in my office at nine o'clock sharp, seeing as you want to stay out past curfew." I groaned – it was Saturday tomorrow!

McGonagall's sharp look quieted my moan but my sullen expression stayed in place.

"Now get back to your common room, and don't let me catch you out after hours again!" McGonagall ordered, watching us go off together, making sure we were going the proper way. And, seeing as we were headed to the common room anyway, it didn't matter much.

We got back to the common room by ten as we were walking slowly. We were already in trouble, so why hurry back?

Many were still up when we got back, and Harry and I found a seat by the fireplace. We talked for a while, and the common room started clearing out. I yawned, looking at the grandfather clock. It was almost midnight, and the day had worn me out.

"Harry, I think I'm going to go to bed now. I'm exhausted!" I groaned. I got up, and Harry followed suit.

He walked me over to the stair case, which I found a little funny. But sweet. Harry was sweet.

He took my hand. "Goodnight, Ginny."

I swung our arms. "Goodnight, Harry."

He pulled on our swinging arms, hugging me. "I love you," he whispered.

I smiled up at him. "I love you, too." He smiled back. "Do you want your sweater back?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, keep it." I sighed in contentment and kissed his cheek.

"See you in the morning." And then I climbed the stair case up to my warm, inviting sheets.

**A/N: **_***You don't have to read this. It's me rambling about my stressful life. I find it helpful to vent to something, so read if you care (*makes a hopeful face* Care about me!). Or, if you're lame, scroll down and read the end.***_

**So, it's Christmas break. Wanna hear about my ridiculous swim schedule? Okay, so on Friday night I had a swim meet. Then, directly afterwards, was a party. In the morning I woke up at 8:30, and I went to school to catch the bus to Westerville for another swim meet. At a totally ghetto pool. Like, seriously, the toilets had curtains covering them up, and there was a giant hole in one of them, so people could see others' business. The entire ground was wet; the ceiling was a dripping tarp; the pool was 2 feet deep, therefore, when doing flip turns, we had to be cautious not to hit our heads on the floor of the pool; the dive team couldn't dive there anymore because the ceiling was too low, and they hit their heads on it when they dived; the deep/shallow end was divided at a 90 degree angle, dropping from 3 feet to 10 feet suddenly; the blocks were slippery, and people slipped off of them; the water was too murky; there was no sink in the bathroom; the mirror was a funhouse mirror; the lockers consisted of hooks on the wall. It was possibly the most ridiculous pool I've ever been to. Either that or I'm spoiled (which may be the case, because I come from a pretty affluent area). **

**Anyways, the rest of my schedule this break consists of two practices a day for two hours. That's four hours of practice a day (who needs that much on break!?!?!). I even have one (mandatory) on Christmas Eve. It's kinda like WHATTHEFUCK. Some break.**

**And I've been getting Fs on basically all my tests in Honors Algebra II and AP US because my parents are freakin idiots and are getting divorced and I've been distracted and depressed. It's been since last summer, and last year during April/May was when the yelling was the worst. My history teacher gave me a hug one day because he asked me if anything was bothering me (because he said I looked like an A student and my grades have been dropping), and I said that my parents were getting divorced. It was awkward to say the least.**

**And my friend is a complete idiot. She's 16, a junior, and she met this guy in the Tim Horton's drive-thru. He's 18 and in college. He asked her out, and they went on a date. Afterwards, they went back to his dorm. Guess what happened there? It was her first time, and she went back last night to spend the night in his dorm, telling her parents she's spending the night at a friend's house. Stupid bitch, right?**

**Oh, and I have a creeper. It's this kid who sits next to me in Algebra. He likes me, and he's a fucking weirdo. He smells like diapers and looks like he's high all the time. He always asks me what our homework is. I'm like "It's on the board". And he's like "Oh. Yeah. Hahaha. That was really stupid." Yeah, no kidding, dumb shit. And then he says "Is it 16-20 even?" Would you like some glasses? Stop talking to me! And my friend used to have a creeper, too. He's nice, but he had fantasies about her. This is even weirder because he's the band director's son, who I have during class.**

**And one of my best friends is moving back to Scotland. It's SOOOOO sad. I'm gonna be really even more depressed when she leaves. In March. But I'm going to visit HER. I wanna go to another country (although I once went to New Mexico, which is VERY different from the Midwest, so it was like I was in another country), dammit, other than Niagra Falls Canada side.**

**There's a LOT more I could talk about, but I think I'll stop now, because I think I've made my point that life is sucking. I'm normally (and have always been) a very happy person. But lately I've been so depressed and I lie about feeling sick just so I can sit there and be sad. It actually got to the point where I smoked a fag… or two… which says a lot because I've always been afraid to do stuff like that.**

**And my English teacher told me there is NEVER NEVER NEVER a comma after or before **_**because**_** because it's such a strong word. I was like "Wow, I never never NEVER knew that." He wrote it on the board so the entire class could know. I believe he's gay, but he's so adorable (he's like 24). So if I made a mistake like that in past chapters, you should know I realize I've done wrong.**

**Thanks for listening (or reading, I guess). **

**My playlist as I wrote this: "Sometime Around Midnight" by The Airborne Toxic Event, "Green Light" by John Legend, "All I Want For Christmas is You" by Mariah Carey, "You Found Me" by the Fray, "Vamos a la Playa" by United State of Electronica, and "This is Love" by Self**

_***Read this part now if you weren't before.***_

**I'm going to the zoo lights in two hours, so I decided to finish this up before I left.**

**Sorry if my writing is getting more depressing, but that's how I feel. When I started this story I was happy, and I'll try to keep it happy still, but I can't help it sometimes. It's better to get a slightly angsty chapter than no chapter right? But I do have a plan for the next chapter to make it less sad and stuff. No worries :) This is about the last of the angsty chapters for now.**

**And I haven't read any Harry Potter books since the 7****th**** one came out. So if I get any information wrong, that's why.**

**REVIEW!!! I LOVE YOU ALL, MY DEARIES (some more than others)!!! JOYEUX NOEL!!! This chapter was kinda longer than others, so you should show appreciation by reviewing. **


	14. In Which Shit Sits

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter XIV: In Which Shit Sits**

Harry and I left for detention half past eight. The castle was empty for the most part, but occasionally we would run into a frazzled first year or group of older students. It was almost curfew, after all.

"So what d'you think we'll be doing?" I asked Harry. I'd never actually had a detention before. I was kind of like this seemingly goody-two-shoes girl who never got in trouble for anything. Not that I shouldn't; I just never got caught. Like what Harry and I were up to a few weeks ago? Yeah, we could've gotten into some deep shit with that.

"Hmm…" Harry pretended to ponder for a moment. "Well, I went into the forest first year with Hagrid, but I doubt we'll be doing that, seeing as Voldemort was in there killing all the unicorns… McGonagall's no Umbridge, so there won't be any blood quills…"

"What?" I interrupted. I knew Harry had had detentions with Umbridge, but I thought he just had to write lines. With ink. But blood quills? I had no idea. I stopped walking and Harry stopped with me as his arm was wrapped around my shoulders in our usual position.

"What's what?" Harry asked in confusion. I ignored him and pulled his arm off of my shoulder. And there it was. In a thin, white scar were the words _I must not tell lies _along the back of his hand. How could I not have noticed it? Yes, it was faded, but one would think a girlfriend would know about her boyfriend's atrocious detentions with the evil defense teacher if it was this serious.

It also bothered me that Harry didn't tell me it was happening. What else could he be hiding from me?

I looked up at his face, and he quickly pulled his hand away and hid it in a pocket, his expression resembling a kid who had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. But it was too late. I saw the scars.

"That _bitch!_" I shrieked loudly.

"_Shh!_" Harry shushed me quickly, looking around as though someone might hear. We were in an abandoned hallway, and we were several turns away from McGonagall's office.

"Oh, no one's going to hear us, Harry!" I reprimanded Harry incredulously. "When did this happen?" I pulled his hand back out of his pocket, ignoring his indignant protest. I traced the thin lines, not letting him pull out of my grasp.

When he didn't answer me I narrowed my eyes and asked again, in a deadly quiet voice, "When did this happen, Harry?"

He hesitated, and I grabbed his face to look at me. "Harry," I almost begged. "When did she hurt you?"

His eyes were resentful as he looked at me and said quietly, "Last September."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Well, you know… we weren't really… together then. Ron and Hermione know!" he added as though it was alright since _Ron and Hermione_ knew.

"You could have told me once we _were_ together!" He sighed and looked as down as he could, considering I basically had his face in a headlock. He mumbled something incoherently which was quite a feat since he was only an inch or two taller than me and his lips were close to my ear.

"What's that?"

"I said it's not a big deal," Harry mumbled. My face screwed up in frustration. Not a big deal!

I voiced my concern: "Not a big deal!" I finally released my hands from either side of his face, giving him some room to breathe.

He turned slightly to look down the hallway and not at me. "No. I took care of it. It's done. Why dwell on it?" He hadn't been well cared for – just like Sirius said. His conditions weren't the worst, but he didn't grow up in a loving environment. I took a moment to look at Harry before choosing my answer carefully.

"You were _hurt_. You were deliberately being tortured by a _teacher_. She's supposed to help us, not hurt us! People care about you, and we don't want you to suffer. I don't want you to. I love you."

He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He looked up at me, and I could tell he was searching my face for sincerity. He looked away after a quiet minute and just asked, "Can we go now?"

I sighed, knowing Harry wouldn't apologize anytime soon for not telling me about the blood quill. He liked to keep his pain to himself, not liking others to know as not to hurt them too. I wished he told me more, though. I mean, I told him everything important in _my_ life.

"Fine," I said in a way that suggested this conversation wasn't over, but I knew that may not be the case. Harry could be more stubborn than even me.

We entered the ancient office, and McGonagall was sitting behind her desk formidably. Filch was standing next to the mahogany piece of furniture with what could only be described as an evil smirk spread across his bristly face.

"Now, seeing as you're finally here, we can finally address the subject of your detention," McGonagall said.

Filch held up two rather large sticks with rubber bowls stuck to the end: plungers. What the fuck? Unclogging toilets? Didn't Hogwarts have a charm that kept them from getting stuffed with shit?

"Here's a list of all the toilets in the public areas of Hogwarts that need to be fixed. I trust if you work hard, you'll be finished by midnight." I suppose the supposed charm I always assumed existed was nonexistent.

Harry and I exchanged a disgusted look. A plunger was shoved into each of our hands suddenly. _Great_. "Attached to the list is a hall pass and a note explaining why you must be out after hours. I'll know if you don't finish. And if you choose not to, you'll receive another detention to complete the job." I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I'd rather be scrubbing the floor of Filch's office than go and make other people's shit flush down a toilet.

"Wands," McGonagall ordered. I sighed sadly but handed her my wand. Harry did as well.

We were given some rubber gloves and the list before we were pushed out of the room. I looked down at the cream paper.

_Girls' bathroom, sixth floor: fourth stall, sixth stall, ninth stall_

"This is total shit!" I moaned as Harry and I walked into the sixth floor lavatory.

"Don't I know it," Harry chuckled. "I have to clean up crap in the girls' bathroom. It's every boys' dream."

Not appreciating his cheek, I waved my plunger threateningly in his face. "Don't make me use this!"

He dodged my swing and said, "I'm afraid you'll have to, dear."

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to too, _love_."

"Touche," Harry agreed as he bravely opened stall four. I heard a noise of disgust followed quickly by, "I didn't know it could even be that color!"

Taking Harry's encouraging words to heart, I took a deep breath and stormed through door number nine.

It was a gross process. It was far too long by my standards. We had only gotten through eight bathrooms by ten o'clock. There were thirty.

The night that followed made me _so_ thankful that half the population at Hogwarts seemed to take shits bigger than Alaska.

**A/N: I'm immature, but I still occasionally find potty humor hilarious.**

"**Do I have a girlfriend? Technically no. Would you be my girlfriend? I'll make it so."**

**Oh, John Legend.**

**I don't respond to all reviews; only the ones that tickle my fancy. Tickle my fancy, please. Lovely people leave reviews no matter what. Be lovely.**

**PS: I've started looking up Roman Numerals for the beginning of my chapters like I thought I'd have to.**

**PPS: Has anyone ever heard of the fan fiction_ The Nymphrodite Story_? Or any related title? I can't remember the exact name, but it was a HarryRon fiction. Harry as half girl (yeah, strange, but it was a really good story!). It was in my favorites, but I can't seem to find it now. Does anyone know where I might find it? I know it wasn't very popular as it had like 15 reviews and 40 chapters (which I never really understood because it was so well-written), so you probably haven't heard of it. It'd be helpful if someone told me another place it might be.**


	15. In Which the End is a Cliffhanger

****

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter XV: In Which the End is a Cliffhanger**

There are little technicalities of a relationship that confuse me a bit, and I don't necessarily believe in all of them.

Like snogging at breakfast. _Snogging_ at _breakfast_. Couldn't they have the decency to wait until dinner when we actually had food in our stomachs from earlier, so we, I dunno, don't have to sit and watch the disgusting affair? Wasn't PDS banned at Hogwarts? It was disgusting. Harry and I don't snog like two hormonal teenagers... in public.

But here they were; snogging in plain view of everyone; they were practically having an orgy at the breakfast table, what with all the butt-groping.

And the teachers just sit there and ignore it. All through breakfast I could nearly hear the couple's smacking lips and exchanges of saliva and no one does anything about it. Unbelievable. I stared, fascinated. How could anyone be so horny during breakfast? I was _tired_ and barely had enough energy to _think_ of snogging.

I looked over at Harry to see if he was similarly affected by the couple's blatant display of affection, but he was looking over at another couple. I followed his sickened gaze to see a couple of giggling older Gryffindors feeding each other. And the blonde girl was sitting on the brunette boy's lap. _Really?_ Is it really necessary to feed each other little strawberries and pieces of bacon as you cuddle?

I nudged Harry and he glanced over at me before I nodded my head slightly towards the other couple snogging fiercely over at the Ravenclaw table. He followed my head motion, and made a face when he saw them and then quickly looked away.

"Disgusting," he muttered.

"Don't they have any decency?" I murmured quietly, leaning a little closer to Harry so no one else would hear. Hermione and Ron weren't sitting with us, as Ron was stubbornly still angry at Harry. Harry was trying his hardest to act normal and talk to Ron, but Ron ignored him, and I could tell Harry was upset. I would've said something to Ron about it, but I knew Harry would just be embarrassed, so I kept quiet and by Harry's side.

"I don't think so," Harry clarified, sending another look at the snoggers. "Do they ever come up for air, you think? Or do they have gills?"

I laughed. "Maybe. You just sounded like Luna there, you know."

Harry laughed too. "Really? I haven't talked to her since the train ride. How is she?"

"As odd as ever," I answered, thinking fondly of my eccentric friend. "The other day she asked me if I'd recently eaten a giggling pimplefernance. I told her no, why? She said that they made people glow when they're in love, and I was glowing a bright orange."

"Either you're head over heels for this handsome guy named Harry, or your hair was under a light," Harry teased.

"Probably the hair one," I confirmed, and Harry grabbed my side, and I barely contained a shriek as laughter bubbled in my throat. I was rather ticklish. I saw a few students glance our way, and I quickly composed myself.

"Hey, you're wearing my sweater!" Harry said as he observed the material he had just touched.

"Actually, it's _my_ sweater," I argued. "You told me I could have it, therefore making it mine."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully before biting into a piece of toast. I did the same. I loved it when Harry was like this; so happy and carefree and open.

"Hi, Harry, Ginny," I heard two voices say.

I looked up from my plate, eying the twins suspiciously. Lee Jordan was there too, standing quietly behind them. They were standing behind the empty bench across from us. "Fred. George. Lee." Harry murmured a quiet hello and Lee nodded. "What d'you want?" I asked shortly.

"Little sister," I was addressed, and I nearly protested, but I was cut off, "there's no reason to be snotty."

"Anyways, we thought you might want to know one Dean Thomas over there wants to talk to loverboy."

"Why –" I started to ask, but I was cut off once more.

"Hey, we just carry the message, not the reason. Toodles." And Fred and George quickly left the Great Hall, followed by their tall friend. I guess our plan worked; they weren't teasing us anymore – much.

"Wonder what that was all about," I asked Harry, turning to him.

"I dunno. What d'you reckon Dean wants?" Harry asked me.

"Can't be anything good," I said, thinking about my brief conversation with Dean a few weeks back.

Hermione was with me. We were standing outside an unused classroom on the second floor. The door was closed, and I had extendable ears. It was a half an hour before lunch and my boyfriend and Dean were inside the classroom. For a quick "_chat_."

"Do you really think we should be doing this? It _is_ a private –"

I quickly shushed Hermione. "You worry too much. And besides, this is important. It has to do with me."

"How do you –"

"Shh! I'm listening!" Hermione shut up, and she almost regretfully leaned her head towards the extendable ear.

"… like you?" came Dean's voice. It was rather heated and angry.

"Is this why you called me in here?" Harry asked, sounding incredulous. "To tell me Ginny doesn't like me. That she likes you?"

"Yes," Dean confirmed. I felt a pit of uncomfortable anger simmer in my stomach.

"You're an idiot," Harry said.

"No, that's you. Remember when Ginny went with me to the first Hogsmeade trip?"

"Then left you for me?" Harry cut in.

"That's beside the point. Last month she came to me and practically begged me to take her back."

Hermione and I exchanged incredulous looks. What was this boy on?

"Oh, really? And why are you only telling me about all this 'begging' now?" Harry's voice was laced with annoyance; an annoyance that I wasn't too familiar with. It was somehow different than if he was upset with me. It was colder.

"Because I've decided to take her up on it," Dean said. "And for that to happen, she doesn't want to break your heart and tell you it's over, so I'm doing the dirty work for her. It's over, Potter."

"Thomas, why should I listen to a jealous prick like you?"

"You can't make her happy. She knows this. You're making her miserable. She told me herself."

There was silence for a few minutes. I heard some chairs being scraped against the floor. "Please leave us alone." Harry's voice was cold and hard and there was another element to it that I couldn't place. It sounded like he was frightened, but that didn't make any sense. "You're clearly not thinking straight at the moment if you think I'm going to believe you. If you were in your right mind, you'd realize you sound like a complete imbecile. Goodbye."

Before I had time to extract myself from the door, it burst open. Harry looked down at us. His face was pale, and it went whiter as he saw us. We were crouched, completely still, and holding onto a pink string.

"Harry…" I started. "Harry, you know that's not true."

Harry nodded stiffly, and I saw a brief shift in the background. It was Dean; his back was towards us.

"C'mon," he murmured as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders firmly, almost protectively, and began strolling down the corridor. Hermione trailed beside us a bit unsure. Harry didn't seem to notice she was even there, and he started walking faster. I struggled not to stumble as he pulled me along. Hermione struggled to keep up.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted as we pulled around a corner.

Harry didn't stop, so I did. When his death grip on my shoulders nearly caused me to fall as he kept walking, he caught me. He held me tightly, and I was about to berate him for acting so ridiculously, but the look in his eyes made me stop short. It was something akin to fear. To what, I don't know. My breath hitched; his fear confused me, and I started to panic when the look didn't go away.

Hermione, who didn't see the look, spoke up and said "Harry, what has gotten into you?"

He turned his face towards Hermione, and, not letting me go, leaned towards her to whisper almost silently, "We need to get to the Headmaster's office. Now. There's no time to explain. Trust me."

Hermione saw the look and nodded, for once keeping quiet, glancing at me quickly. Without another word, Harry, Hermione, and I headed off to the Headmaster's office. We passed a few students, and some of them gave us strange looks as we rushed through the halls.

"Harry?" A voice that made me stop, therefore stopping Harry who had yet to let me go. It was Ron. Hermione quickly ran up to him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, looked confused, then Hermione gestured for Harry to keep on, Ron in pursuit.

When we got to the gargoyle, Harry looked at Hermione urgently; she was the prefect, or the responsible one, so she knew the password.

"Skitterish Humbugs," Hermione said quietly. The gargoyle jumped to life, letting the four of them pass.

By now Harry could barely contain himself, and he had his arm so tightly wrapped around me it was starting to hurt. Suddenly, he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on the side of my head. I looked at him, confused, and the fear was still written on his face along with worry.

They knocked on the door, and it opened. The headmaster was behind his desk looking through a large book, but when he saw Harry's face he stood up.

"Headmaster, Voldemort kidnapped Dean Thomas and is now after Ginny."

I looked at Harry in shock. This was unexpected.

**A/N: You know what cliché I can't stand, and it's in at least seven of the HG stories I've read? The one where Harry asks Ginny to the Yule Ball all like, "Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?" and then Ginny is like, "I'd be honored to go with you as your date. We MUST have matching Gryffindor colored robes. It'll be romantic, and an aura will appear around us as we sweep across the dance floor since we feel so strongly for one another when we dance." And then Harry is all like "I can't dance, I'm gonna go to McGonagall to get lessons since she OBVIOUSLY is amazing at dancing. And I REALLY wanna impress my true love who's totally beautiful." **_**SeriouslyWTF?**_** It's unrealistic and it makes me wanna throw up. A lot of things like that make me wanna throw up. I'm not one for extreme sappiness; angst, yes, overdramatic, yes, but not cheesy formality.**

**I don't want to make this story too much longer, and it'll end when Ginny finishes her fourth year, or a little after. I don't like writing about people younger than me, even by only a year; when I started this I was fourteen, but now I can almost get my temps (ahhh, I'm gonna be driving this month! I hope I don't kill you on the road because my driving is sure to be awful).**

**Review please :)**


	16. In Which He Calls Her 'Duckie'

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Rating: T**

**Chapter XVI: In Which He Calls Her 'Duckie'**

"_Headmaster, Voldemort kidnapped Dean Thomas and is now after Ginny."_

_I looked at Harry in shock. This was unexpected._

Dumbledore slowly sat back down, closing his book. He lay his arms down in front of him on the desk.

"Please take a seat."

"But –" Harry protested.

"Please take a seat, and explain to me the situation, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore calmly ordered.

Harry inhaled in what I could only call impatience but took a seat in one of four wooden armchairs residing in front of the enormous desk. In order to do this, he had to release me from his boa constrictor hold. After he sat, he almost pulled me into his lap as he gently guided my hand towards him, but that was where I drew the line. I wouldn't succumb into acting like a sappy, disgusting couple; even during a crisis.

I patted his hand in an effort to comfort him, and he reluctantly released me. I sat in the chair next to him as Hermione and Ron had already taken the other two.

"Now, tell me what this is all about," Dumbledore benevolently requested.

"Dean," Harry quickly if a bit panicky said, wanting to tell his story as fast as possible, "but not really Dean, I guess, wanted to talk to me today. He asked me after our first class to accompany him into an abandoned classroom. I didn't know what it was about, but I did as he asked and followed him. It started off simple enough with him confronting me about some minor issues, but then his face changed when I didn't listen to a word he said… it was Dean's face, but it wasn't. Demon like, almost." Here Harry paused to gather his flustered thoughts. We were silent.

"He passed me a letter," Harry said, "and I opened it and read it. After I read it, it burst into flames. It explained that Dean was being held in the Department of Mysteries. It said if I went down there alone to get something for… for the Death Eaters, because that's who wrote it, Dean would be returned. They said if I didn't go get it for them within the next eight hours, Dean would be killed, and they'd find a way to get to Ginny. They'd…," Harry's voice broke off suddenly, but we knew what he meant. _They'd kill me too._

There were a few seconds of silence before Dumbledore suddenly got out of his chair, taking us all aback by his now alert stature.

"Where did you leave the imposter?"

"Wha – classroom two-hundred-twenty-three," Harry told him quickly. Dumbledore strode over to his fireplace, threw some Floo powder into it, and called, "Severus Snape!"

I looked over at Harry, Ron, and Hermione to see Ron and Hermione exchange looks of worry. Harry was sitting there anxiously with a hard look on his face. He saw me staring, and he grimaced in an attempt to smile.

My chair was close enough to his for him to reach over and grab my hand. He leaned in towards me and whispered quietly in my ear, "It's going to be okay, Ginny. I won't let anything happen to you. Just don't worry. It'll all turn out for the better." These words I believed were mostly for his benefit as I wasn't the one freaking out. I was a bit numb to the entire situation, really. It didn't seem real.

In response to his reassurance, I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles. I responded quietly as well, "Harry, I'm fine. I'm more worried about you than anything."

Harry just stared at me like one would look when they were worried for someone's mental health. "_Really_," I emphasized.

His look didn't go away, so I was almost relieved when the ancient professor turned around and said, "You four are to the Great Hall along with all of the other students. Professor Snape is dealing with the imposter, and I am going to the Ministry to resolve the situation," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Professor, I have to -" Harry started, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"You don't have to anything, Harry. All you need to do here is wait and be patient. Now, please escort Misses Granger and Weasley and Mr. Weasley to the Great Hall to meet with all the other students and professors. I expect an announcement was made at lunch and will –"

"_All students please report to the Great Hall immediately. All students please report to the Great Hall immediately,_" a large voice boomed from outside the office; it sounded like McGonagall's.

Dumbledore nodded at us to get going, and Hermione and Ron turned and started to leave, but Harry just stood there glaring at the Headmaster. I looked between the patient Headmaster and back to Harry. I could feel the anger and annoyance rolling off of Harry, and I had to hook my arm through his stiff one and physically pull him to get him to start walking. It's a good thing Harry wasn't too much bigger than me, or I wouldn't have been able to get him from that room.

Harry didn't look back as I dragged him from the spacious office.

When got down the stairs, I started guiding Harry in the direction of the Great Hall, following the hesitant Ron and Hermione who kept trying to none-too-subtly look behind at us.

He started slowing us down, letting Ron and Hermione get ahead a bit, and, when they turned a corner, he stopped us.

"Harry, what…," I tried to ask, but he suddenly pulled me into a tight hug, and the words died on my lips.

"Hey, Harry, Ginny, what… oh," Ron's words died off of his lips, and, looking over Harry's shoulder to see my brother and Hermione standing there awkwardly, having just come back around the corner.

I mouthed, "Go on. It's okay." Hermione nodded but looked worried, and Ron was similarly stern. They quietly left us with Hermione gently pulling on Ron's arm.

Harry hadn't loosened his hold on me, and, once Hermione and Ron were out of range, he pulled his head back, crushing his lips to mine.

I was breathless. Lips were moving with mine with intoxicating force. Within seconds, I was breathing heavily through my nose, and I was gripping onto Harry so hard I could feel my fingers go cold.

My mind was becoming hazy, and he readjusted so I was pressing against him more snugly.

He released the passionate kiss gently. My legs were jelly, and he held me close so I wouldn't fall.

"Harry, what are you going to do?" I whispered quietly. He didn't normally pull me into such heavy kisses like _that_ unless there was some reason or occasion.

Harry rested his chin on my shoulder and said quietly in my ear, "I'm the only one that can help Dean. They want _me_. And, even if the Headmaster has an entire army of Aurors with him, they'll get hurt. The fastest way is for me to go there myself and get whatever they need for them. Dean'll be returned okay."

"What about you? Will you return okay?" I asked. I was upset to discover my voice sounded weak and helpless.

Harry was silent, and the fear and panic I was trying to suppress rushed through my stomach. I clung onto his shirt desperately. "Harry, don't do it. Dean will be _fine_. Dumbledore's got it in hand. Just trust him! Harry, please don't leave! Please," I said hopelessly.

"I have to, Ginny," Harry murmured, much calmer than me.

"They'll kill you! Think rationally. Don't do this!" I wasn't surprised to find a lump appear in my throat. I couldn't speak anymore. All I could do was cling to Harry and hope I was convincing and strong enough to stop him.

We stood still a moment, and I buried my head in Harry's chest desperately. Then I felt Harry try to gently pry my arms off of him. I held on tighter. I wouldn't let him go get himself killed.

Harry sighed. "Ginny… please let go." I just shook my head into his chest. He tried a different approach, this time a bit more emotion seeping through. "Dean will get killed if I don't go. I _have_ to. It's my fault. I'm the only one who can save him. I couldn't live with myself if my roommate, a friend even, died because of me. Again."

I felt tears come to my eyes and clog up my throat tighter with his gentle but firm resistance. I struggled to choke out the words, "You're being a right prick, Harry. And even if Dean… I can't lose you, Harry. Think about _me_. What do you think'd happen to me if you ran off and…"

I couldn't help it. I started crying. I didn't mean to be so selfish, but Harry had to understand that others who care about him would be affected by his actions, too.

"Ginny…," Harry started. He almost sounded like he wanted to be condescending, but my name came out sounding sad. I sobbed harder.

"Ginny, please… I've got to…"

"_No!_" I choked out in between my huge bursts of tears. We stood there for another moment. I tried to stop my uncontrollable sobbing.

"Well, what do you want me to do? I can't just stand around here knowing that someone else is suffering and in danger because of _me!_"

At his frustrated outburst, I tried even harder to suppress the pressure in my chest.

"I want you to stay here with me. Safe. Away from danger, away from those _psychos_. Harry, I never want you near those stupid Death Eaters again. I want to know that you're okay always. So don't you turn around and leave and get yourself killed! How would you even get to the Ministry? You can't apparate. You wouldn't get there in time. People would see you. You'd never get away with it. Harry, _stay here_."

I felt and heard Harry's resigned sigh, and he buried one of his hands in my hair. The other one ran up and down my back mindlessly. We stood there for a moment, and I took the time to calm down. My hold on him loosened, and I was vaguely aware that my fingers were aching with stiffness.

He pulled back from our prolonged hug and stepped back. He held out his hand, grimacing, "C'mon, duckie."

"Duckie?" I asked, feeling an odd smile appear on my face.

Harry nodded, quirking his lips in a way I could almost call a smile. "It fits," he assured me.

I shook my head, reconciled to the fact that we were more bipolar than the average couple. I rubbed at my, what I assumed to be, red, wet, and puffy eyes.

He held out his hand, and I grabbed it. When we made it to the Great Hall, it was packed with gossiping students.

**A/N: lalala, I love **_**To Kill A Mockingbird**_**, lalala, and it's thirty-six degrees below freezing outside, lalala, and if you were wondering 'duckie' is some cutesy British word for a friend or partner, lalala**


	17. In Which I'd Do Anything For You

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: Valor Orgulloso**

**Chapter XVII: In Which I'd Do Anything For You**

We quickly spotted Ron and Hermione, who were standing over by a window talking quietly to Seamus Finnegan, who was pale and looking nervous, and we made our way towards them. It looked like the two were trying to make Seamus feel better.

I knew they saw my puffy eyes from the way Ron eyed Harry a bit hostilely and Hermione's worried expression increased as she looked at me. Seamus ignored us, instead diverting his attention out the window to look over the lake.

"Seamus?" I asked tentatively the boy. Seamus and I didn't know each other well, if at all. I talked to him a couple of times; most of those being a hurried _excuse me _or _could you pass the jam?_ We recognized each other. That was all.

He turned to look at me sullenly, his freckles contrasting darkly against his pale skin. When I just stared at him a moment, not saying anything, he asked, "Yeah?"

I shook my head, suddenly at a loss for words. "Nothing. Sorry." He sighed and turned back to the window. What was there to say? His best friend had been captured by Death Eaters. All I felt was pity for him, and, as much as I hated to admit it for I felt a sharp pang of guilt, relief that it wasn't Harry.

The Great Hall had the four tables set up, and many of the students were sitting on them, talking, probably wondering what the reason was for keeping them there, away from their studies.

I leaned against the wall by the window and slid down to sit, and I was glad today I decided to wear pants instead of the usual skirt. A few yards away from me, I saw Ron and Hermione talking "quietly" with Harry. By quietly I mean I could hear every word they were saying.

"What'd you do to my sister, Potter?" Ron hissed venomously. I looked up and watched the exchange interestedly; but I felt a little detached, and I barely registered Ron's words as offensive.

"N – nothing," Harry said, taken aback. Whether by the tone, the words, or the use of his surname, I was unsure.

"Oh, Ron, leave Harry alone," Hermione scolded. When Ron opened his mouth to retort, Hermione sent him a hard look, but effectively shut up.

Harry hesitantly left the situation, and, when his back was turned, Ron sent him a dirty look until Hermione grabbed his arm sharply. Hermione leaned up and whispered something in his ear, and his features changed, becoming softer and less angry; even a little guilty.

I shifted my attention upwards, and Harry looked down at me wearily, leaning sideways against the wall. I returned the tired look, and he took this as an invitation to sit by me.

He snuck an arm behind my shoulders, and I leaned into him, burying my face in his chest.

"Thanks for staying, Harry," I murmured. His hand rubbed my shoulder appreciatively. Tingles ran through my neck.

"Anything for you." I smiled a little; at the truth in the statement as much as the cliché remark itself.

"Same here."

"You know, a year ago at this time –" Harry started but I finished his sentence.

"– I had no idea I'd ever be your girlfriend."

Harry laughed a little. "Yeah. A lot has changed since then." He paused then, and I pulled back to look at his face. It seemed a little sad, and I guessed he must have been thinking about the last task of the Triwizard Tournament.

"Hey, not all of it's bad," I told him. He looked at my face amusedly. "I mean, you've got me; a beautiful, red-haired goddess."

"And that's a good thing?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Harry!" I shrieked, and a few nearby students looked over at the two of us along with Ron and Hermione; they were now sitting on a portion of the bench at the nearest long table.

Harry nuzzled his head in the crook of my neck, and I laughed quietly, trying to push his head away. "That tickles!"

"Mmmm…," Harry murmured, pulling back. "I suppose I can live with you…"

"You're mean," I pouted, crossing my arms across my chest.

Harry pulled me closer to his side, kissing the top of my head. "And I love you," he murmured.

"Well, I guess I can live with that; if not with you," I said. Harry laughed quietly in my ear.

"But really, would you mind living with me?" Harry whispered. I was sure no one else could hear us, and Harry's words made me stop and think. They had actually kind of shocked me into submission. I never really thought about my future too much to be honest. Now, though, thinking about it, one without Harry seemed depressing.

I turned my head to look at him. Our faces were only a few inches apart. "No, I think that'd be nice."

"Really?" Harry asked disbelievingly, but a small smile was appearing on his face.

"Harry, why _wouldn't_ I want to live with you?"

Harry shrugged and puffed out his chest a little. "That incredible, yeah?" he asked arrogantly. I grabbed his side playfully, and he pushed my hand away quickly.

"Shut up," I ordered. He smirked before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. His smile faded into worried lines.

I sighed, knowing his good attitude wouldn't be lasting too long. But, to my surprise, he continued the conversation.

"D'you think we'll stay together, Ginny?" His eyes opened back up, and he looked me in the eye.

I nodded. "Yes, don't you?"

Harry shrugged, and my stomach dropped a little. "You don't?" I asked.

"It's just… things happen," Harry tried to explain. He was doing a pretty rotten job at it because my eyes started watering a bit.

"Like what?" I whispered, and I was ashamed to admit it sounded like I was choking back tears. It was one thing to sob in the middle of a deserted corridor, but in a room full of the rest of the student body was another.

"Um, I might… change comes, and there's nothing we can do to stop it."

"What _change_?" I demanded, confused.

"Well, Voldemort for one…," said Harry.

"And how does that affect our relationship?" I asked.

"He could hurt you… use you." Harry took a deep breath. "This thing with Dean just proves it. Voldemort captured someone who I just share a dorm with… what if it was you next? I couldn't live with myself if it was you." And then he fell silent.

"You can take care of me, Harry. I trust you. We don't have to split just because of Voldemort. We can't let him run our lives." I placed my hand on his chest, and begged him to see sense. We remained eye contact until he sharply looked away. He pulled back a little.

"I'm sorry," he said in a voice quieter than the rest of our conversation. It could've been the wind, but we weren't outside. He gently but firmly removed my hand from his chest and unwound his arm from around my shoulders. My stomach felt like ice. I was numb. What was he doing? A hot, slow stream of dread began to trickle into my mind through the freeze.

"Harry?" I asked in a weak voice. He avoided my eyes. "Harry, did you think this through?" He still wouldn't look at me. "Are you – " I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. "Are you breaking up with me?" I opened my eyes, needing but not wanting to know the answer.

"I have to…," he argued weakly. I sat back in disbelief.

"_Why?_" I asked. I could feel my eyes welling up with tears, but I refused to cry; not in front of everyone, and I didn't know if I wanted to let Harry see how much he was hurting me.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm so sorry." And, before I had the chance to stop him, he stood up and went over to talk to Neville. Like nothing just happened. I wanted to scream. At _him_. I wanted to storm right up to him and hit him and yell at how stupid he was being and how he was such a bloody _prat._ But the publicity of it all stopped me, and I was frozen. I couldn't move – the drug of shock keeping me in place.

I heard a faraway voice call to me, but my vision was blurry, and I couldn't see who it was. I somehow found use of my arms and hastily rubbed my eyes. My vision cleared slightly, and I saw a concerned Hermione squatting in front of me.

"Ginny?" she said quietly. I let out a short sob – one I couldn't hold in, and I saw people send me looks, wondering what could be wrong. _Everything_. I looked over towards Neville to see Harry talking quietly to him, and I felt so hurt I thought I'd burst. Neville suddenly gestured towards me, and Harry turned his head ever so slightly. He saw me, and I glared at him to the best of my ability. He quickly looked away. I looked back at Hermione in despair.

"It's over," I said brokenly, and Hermione hugged me tightly as I tried to hide my sobs against her shoulder. _Anything for you_. Yeah. Right.

**A/N: This chapter was tough to write – mostly due to "writers block" if there is such a thing (mostly when authors say they have this, I just ignore them because really, coming up with ideas isn't that hard – it's just the following through part). But I pushed through "it," and we're nearing the end, my friends… It's a snow day. This one went out to you.**

**And I think I lied when I mentioned it was the last angsty chapter for a while a few chapters back. I just can't help myself.**

**PS: Do any of you watch 24? Jack Bauer can fight gravity. And win. This season isn't too good, so I might go get out my 24 DVDs (we own 2 seasons…) and watch the first season again. Lin (who played a hobbit in LotR), Meester Bowaaa (according to the Chinese govewnment... who has a vewy, vewy long memowy), and Barry the life coach are my favorites. Nerve gas season and the second season are the best :)**


	18. In Which All Good Things Must Come to an

**The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley**

**Rating: T**

**Author: ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter XVIII: In Which All Good Things Must Come to an End**

I stared at the yellowing, three day old paper. The photo revealed a broken Ministry – shattered glass, ruined statues, shredded banners.

My feet carried me on their own volition. I barely paid any attention to the people as I passed them, and I gripped the _Daily Prophet_ tightly in my pale fingers. Slowly but surely I arrived in front of the Hospital Wing's double doors. I hastily rubbed down the wrinkles in the skirt I had obviously slept in before reaching out a hand and slowly pushing open the wooden door.

It was empty for the most part – a student or two sleeping. I swiveled my eyes around the room briefly, and I quickly found the person I was looking for. He was awake.

I approached his bedside and sat in a chair that was already there – obviously, he had already had a visitor or two.

"Hey, Dean," I said.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, not unkindly, ignoring my greeting for the most part. If anything, he was surprised. I observed him before answering. He seemed paler than usual – especially for his dark complexion. His eyes were bloodshot, and light bags lined his eyes.

"I wanted to see how you were," I told him quietly.

He smiled a little. "That would make sense." We were silent for a moment, but then he noticed the paper in my hand and asked, "What've you got there?"

I smiled briefly before handing him over the paper. In bold letters it read:

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED IS BACK: DUMBLEDORE RESCUES STUDENT**

"Kind of hypocritical of them, huh?" Dean commented. "Been refusing the return of You-Know-Who all year, and now they're exploiting my kidnapping like they expected it all along."

"Yeah, pretty awful," I said. We fell silent again as Dean skimmed the article.

I sat twiddling my thumbs, looking out a nearby window. Students were sitting around the lake, dozing about, studying, talking to their friends… I caught sight of a familiar mop of messy black hair. The past few days I had been subdued, restless, upset, angry, depressed, relieved, happy, and now content as I watched my former love chatting with my brother and friend. I was pretty sure my eyes were currently red, if not puffy, as I had been constantly on the verge of tears. Right now I didn't feel like crying, but a few hours ago when I was in my dorm I felt differently.

Yes, I had been depressed when Harry split up with me, but I had felt worse before. I loved – and still love Harry, but if he didn't feel as if our relationship was going anywhere, then I had to accept it.

Today was the first day I had.

I woke up and lay around for a while before crying a little. But then I reevaluated how I was reacting to the situation, and I decided I had been mourning for too long. For goodness' sake, was I that selfish that all I thought about was myself? Throughout the year I had asked myself this question, but now I was ready to answer it.

I guess for a while I had been pretty self-centered; since last summer, definitely. All I had thought of was gaining Harry's attention. I reflected on the year. It had been fun, but at the same time I was ashamed for many of my actions. I hadn't always been especially kind or forgiving or understanding. I hadn't been able to see myself in someone else's shoes, and that left me obscenely nearsighted. I decided then and there, in my tear induced haze, that I'd be a better person. I wouldn't mope. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't think of only myself. I would try my hardest to understand people. I wouldn't judge. And, although Harry told me his reasons for breaking up with me was to protect me, I couldn't deny the fact that maybe if I had been kinder or smarter or listened more to him then I might not have been let go of so easily. I made my vows to start over anew, past dysfunctional relationship or no, and I had left my dorm being able to hold my head high.

The first stop I made was breakfast. It was the first morning meal I had attended in five days. Hermione had looked approvingly at my appearance at breakfast, but perhaps not at the state of the clothes that I had slept in.

I then walked back up to the common room and grabbed the old paper that I had saved in my trunk.

I made my way to visit Dean and ended up here. He had been held hostage by Dark Arts supporters, after all, and it was only right to visit a casual acquaintance when they weren't well.

Dean turned the page to wherever the article continued. "Hey, that's me!" he exclaimed. I leaned over to see the photo. Yes, it was of him, bloodied and unconscious.

"Attractive," I commented, trying to lighten up the mood of the brutal picture. It worked as he laughed.

"I try," he said, folding the paper back up and setting it on his lap.

"How've you been?" I tried.

"Other than feeling like my head is constantly under the Bat Bogey Hex – fine." I laughed. It was one of the first times I had laughed since last week, and it made me feel relieved; I wasn't a stone wall.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," I supplied. Dean nodded and agreed with me.

"How have you been?" Dean asked me in return gently, taking me off guard.

I was about to let a simple _fine_ slip out, but I reconsidered. If I was going to be understanding, I might as well let people understand me. "I've been coping," I finally settled on.

"Yeah?" he questioned, and I knew he was wondering what was up. I decided to tell him. Why not? He'd know eventually.

"Harry and I moved our separate ways a few days ago," I said, trying to make light of the mild painful throbbing in my heart when I thought of it. I moved my tired face away from his tired face and stared at my hands. There was a slight awkward silence that I tried to ignore.

"I'm sorry," Dean eventually came up with.

I shook my head and stood up. "I gotta go, Dean. Get better, yeah?" He nodded, unfazed by my ignorance of his weak apology.

I slowly made my way towards the doors but Dean called out my name. I turned back around.

"I know I've been a prat this past year, Ginny, but d'you think you'll ever consider me?"

I smiled, genuinely glad by this acknowledgement.

"I already have, Dean." I left the Hospital Wing, glad to have gotten at least one chip off my shoulder.

_Happiness hit her like a train on a track  
Coming towards her stuck still no turning back  
She hid around corners and she hid under beds  
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled  
With every bubble she sank with her drink  
And washed it away down the kitchen sink_

_The dog days are over  
The dog days are done  
The horses are coming  
So you better run_

_Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father  
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers  
Leave all your loving, your longing behind  
You cant carry it with you if you want to survive_

_The dog days are over  
The dog days are done  
Can you hear the horses?_

'_Cause here they come_

**It has been fun to write this, and I can't believe I actually finished a (long) story. It has been a journey to write this story even if it's not of the highest quality (I know there are much more talented writers out there than me). Ginny's maturity had come full circle by the end, and I'm positive I've matured a lot since last June. So, in a way, this story reflects the past year of my own life. If this speech was a movie, a dramatic indie song would now come on by Lisa Germano or Damien Rice or Beirut or something (hence the lyrics above this paragraph – **_**Dog Days Are Over**_** by Florence and the Machine). The lyrics sort of mean the old, suckyish times are over, and now's the time for a new beginning, and you better hop on the happy train or you'll be left behind. Sort of like Ginny (this is me showing my vast intellect).**

**And yeah, I know the ending isn't what you suspected. Not everything had to go as everyone wanted it to be, since that's not reality. Life isn't like that, and I think that by Harry and Ginny not ending up together, it shows that even if you can't get what you want, you can get past the pain and accept it. I wrote this story mostly to satiate my needs to make a story that wasn't too cheesy or too cliché or too happy or too angry. I wanted a story that left you feeling satisfied when you read it, and that even if not everything turned out to be a happy ending, life moves on, and you just have to live with it. I hope you enjoyed reading it :) Thanks for all of your support!**

**Sequel? Yes? No? Alternate ending? Depending on how many people want one, I'll consider making a sequel or a different ending. I'll update with my decision, but this story just seems done to me. A sequel would kind of prevent **_**Cerebral**_**s entire purpose.**


	19. In Which I Post an Author's Letter

Dear Readers,

Thank you for all of your reviews, along with suggestions, but I've come to a decision. I will _not_ be continuing this story.

At one point in my life, I really wanted to go back and edit and even write a sequel to this story. But, looking back at it, I think it would be best to leave it as is. It was the first "real" story I wrote: whether it had an actual plot is beside the point. I will most likely not be going back and editing it (if I do, it'll probably be far, far, faaar into the future).

I just didn't want to leave all of you hanging as to where I stand on this. I meant to do this months ago, but, regardless of how active it seems I am on this site, I really don't think about past stories too often.

Sorry for not telling you sooner. But, really, thanks for all the reviews, alerts, favorites, and reads on my first long story. All the support pushed me forward to write future writings (_The Bent Boy_, for one). You have no clue how much you people have helped me continue writing through all the times I doubted myself. Because of you, I've improved :)

Sincerely Yours,

ValorOrgulloso

January 10, 2010


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